London Poem: Day 300

13 June

The poor machine sleeps now,
Turning softer, gentler eyes
Upon the forgotten world.
A hushed sleep dreams no more,
But our dreams grow full with
The whispered sounds of your life –
What lives in dreams lacks the
Parts to grow into life, and back.
So, we let it rest for good,
To live in dreams, and wait
For the day to hear you breathe again.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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