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Hidden Dreams
5 October, 2006
Author: Rick Ryckman

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Softly the slumbering hours are falling.
Drifting in a circle of quiet dreams.
She comes caressing from her garden of gold.
Where colors wrap around me.
Weave me a chain of fragile rainbows.
Her murmurs are quietly whispering.
I will consume her treasures.
I can touch shooting stars flying in the night.
There will be magical whispers in the quiet of morning.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

MC (150.176.200.253) -- Monday, October 16 2006, 11:54 pm

mmmmm

sweet, lovely, wonderful
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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