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133rd Weekly Poetry Contest honorable mention: Dream Fragments


Opening the latch,
my mind flits out
through sleep’s
window, roams
in the glimmer.

As the elephants
chase me, I dart
like a Norway rat.
My legs lose quick
pace, when mind
returns my body.

Red tiled roof of
my old school…
a pair of eyelashes
darkened with
All are broken.

My dad hails, but
his words scatter
far away from my
ears. He flies in the
sky. Mind follows,
but falls upon my
body by dawn.

The moonlet falls,
its stem broken,
and the stars collide
into pieces. Soon
all disappear in
sweat in a flash.
I drink water
from the fear-fall.

A few dreams lie
deep under like
fossils; others
vanish as butterflies.

First published in The Literary Hatchet

133rd Weekly Poetry Contest