Nov 19, 2012

A Strange Place


I woke up to mystical fog. The world wasn’t round anymore.
It was flat, dull like lifeless hair.
I really didn’t understand what was going on out there
.
The fog was thick, hounding me like a certain scent.
Everywhere I went in this somewhat benevolent place,
it was quiet, unfamiliar in some kind of way.

I assumed I had been living there, tho time was not kept.
I wondered had I drifted off and a decade I had slept.

I felt the cool breeze seep from four corners of the room.
As I looked at the crevice bordering and back at the straw made broom.

Yet, right before I was entering a pine wood cupboard for a few vittles;
a man outside grabbed my attention while playing on his fiddle.

The people swarmed carefree about him. 
They danced right beneath my window.

His tears ran fast and hard as my curiosity peaked.
It appeared his heart was broken; his future seemed terribly bleak. 

I opened my window and clapped with a smile.
And to my surprise the crowd went wild; they were very berserk.

“She’s back”, they shouted, “no more deep dreams”.
I pranced the vanity and there I screamed.


jhp©2011-2012

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