tonight i'll dream about a weeping willow girl and wake up alone with a tainted shadow and an accusing sun poking my eye
and maybe i'll dream about a warm and pale yellow room so far away then crack my skull against a concrete sky while i wait for God to call
i just might dream about a soft painted world where everyone loves me and i know how to love back then drag my eyes open to a jagged world that scrapes my teeth when i smile
but i don't believe in magic miracles love so how can i believe there's a weeping willow girl called fortune and a home called dreams?
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Reviews of "don't wake me up (from a dream called home)"
Good poem, but you don't fool me. How can a poet NOT believe? The simple act of poetry is beleif. And I know you can write a love song. I know the role of a cynic fits your neighborhood, but I don't think you're going to pull it off...
This is a book of free verse poetry that addresses the seven main tests in life and offers some sensible solutions to passing those tests with minimal discomfort.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.