London Poem: Day 327

10 July

We are dreamers,
Dreaming silly little things,
Curling between the foot,
And the floor step, where the
Line between is a hazy boundary
Between fact and some form of fiction.
But, what does anyone know when
Dreams and words are spread together –
Nothing means anything when
There is nothing to base it upon.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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