UniqueOldGal Poetry and Opinions:

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Oh, to be in my little room where I can dream and sleep, as up the pallet of my walls shadow-brushes creep. Lands and lives and lifetimes appear and dance above my head. Al the angels of heaven sing and carry me to my bed. With sleepy eye, the dreamer watches as night becomes day... a fiery hand... Sign in to see full entry.

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