Poetry of a Conlanger

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Dreams (5/21/06)

I cried silver tears
Because it was falling to pieces
And couldn’t stop.
I tried,
I tried,
But I couldn’t argue eloquently enough
To stop what he said.

And the tears
Glimmered on my cheek in the moonlight,
Pale and beautiful.
And somehow,
I found peace in this sadness,
A cool hollow where I can rest

The blue of tears.
Wove themselves into a blanket and a basket,
To comfort me and catch what I cried.
And when I’m ready,
When I’m ready,
The blanket will become my wings
So I can fly away.


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