Sunday Poem

Dreams Between Pages

 

Between the covers, whispers lie,

worlds unfold where ink can fly.

A candle burns, the shadows bend,

and every chapter has no end.

 

Some pages bloom with gentle light,

a garden kissed by stars at night.

Romance lingers, sweet and slow,

like rivers where the heart can go.

 

Others charm with playful gleam,

trickster tales that dance and dream.

They laugh, they sing, they hide, they seek,

with magic glowing, soft, unique.

 

Yet some are stitched with threads of pain,

with midnight storms and falling rain.

Darkened paths where sorrow weeps,

and silence haunts the place it keeps.

 

But close the book, and all will fade—

the dream dissolves, the world unmade.

For every tale, both harsh and fair,

is but a breath, suspended air.

 

And though they fade like morning’s gleam,

we live a thousand lives in dream.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=89dGC8de0CA

 

Aerosmith - Dream On

Done