Detached from reality,
A gentle running stream.
The Mockingbirds, along the way,
Were calling out, my name,
"Nothing will ever, be the same."
From the beauty, of you.
Green fields of clover.
Buzzing around my head,
Whispers into my ears.
Of beautiful melodies,
I have not,
Heard in years.
As I await,
To carry me, under his wing,
Flying me, out of this dream.
By: William Bonilla.......8/26/02
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|Reviewed by Sheila Roy
|This is a cute write, William, and it feels dreamy and magical. What I like most about this poem is its style. Your most recent writes are more freestyle than this, where this has hints of rhyme and rhythm. I really like it:) Hugs,
|Reviewed by Denise Edwards
|magically written! You have such a way with words. well done, William.|
|Reviewed by Faye Enno (Reader)
|Such a wonderful write!
I loved the imagery
you gave me...
|Reviewed by Bhuwan Thapaliya
|William...Great write...excellent imaginary...liked this one much...cheers...love n luck...BHUWAN|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Excellent write! great imagery
|Reviewed by michael horetsky (Reader)
|Paints a very pleasent picture.. Very well done...|
|Reviewed by Nancy D.
|Super write with great imagery.
|Reviewed by Ron (sketchman) Axelson
|Reviewed by Sara Wadington
|Fantastic imagery~ Beautifully written~~:)|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|A lovely tale William, see you in the dreamscape;-)|
|Reviewed by Allen Filius (Reader)
|Wow! wonderful imagery here!