Some are restless dreams.
Dreams fall into morning mist
He awakes wondering what he missed
His relationship with dreams two fold
Those he wishes he could remember
Those he can recall but can never be told
Journeys travelled, people he encountered
Words and photographs, that guitar he plucked
That forgot how to play.
What his dreams had to say are but snapshots
Sometimes they are just strong coffee dreams
Once the mask doesn’t drop come morning time
There is nothing really to worry him
Every-day is an unknown day
So the more pleasant the dream
The easier to play out the part
Dreams are once off occurrences
Released once eyes are open
For sure there will never be
Classic covers to be released once
He bites the dust, he is safe in that respect
For dreams are as life is, ashes to ashes dust to dust.
©Chris Black.
Poetry from The Man Shed
11th April 2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
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