Poem: To sleep, perchance to dream…

To sleep, perchance to dream…

Dorset3In a flowery meadow

Where soft breezes roam

Bringing cool currents of scent

Of newly cut grass,

Of flowers,

Of a summer’s day.

And yet, the sleep

May not end

Instead, the earth may grow cold

As gentle breezes

Become fierce winds

And tumultuous clouds15

Bring snow, ice, rain

Which dart from the sky

In a thousand angry spikes.

Dreams may become nightmares

Or nothing,

Nothing,

But

Dark

Blackness.

–Cynthia Haggard writes short stories, novels and poetry.  During the day, she is a medical writer and owns her own business.  For more on her creative writing, go to spunstories.  For more about her medical writing services, go to clarifyingconcepts.  (c) 2009. All rights reserved.

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