Faded Dreams
Uninspired by this lackluster day,
the white sky drifts past the windows
and the light wills my eyes to close.
I must lay down, and permit the images to come.
Allowing my dreams to drift around.
Tedious thoughts,
dissected and picked apart
until there is nothing left
but the colorless atmosphere.
I remember picking at the crumbling
wallpaper of faded cabbage roses.
Phone numbers deeply scratched
and smeared with charcoal led
along the torn, brown paper.
Uninspired by this lackluster day,
the white sky drifts past the windows
and the light wills my eyes to close.
I must lay down, and permit the images to come.
Allowing my dreams to drift around.
Tedious thoughts,
dissected and picked apart
until there is nothing left
but the colorless atmosphere.
I remember picking at the crumbling
wallpaper of faded cabbage roses.
Phone numbers deeply scratched
and smeared with charcoal led
along the torn, brown paper.
She is perched on the filthy green carpeting
of the dimly lit hallway
her chin resting casually on her knees.
Brave to dial and wait.
Brave to dial and wait.
Maybe one of those boys will hear her voice
filled with sweet, slow promises,
and they will bring her love,
and the hopeful wish that this is the one
who will want to live in the light of her smile.
Angela Minard 2008©
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1 Comments:
This poem is filled with a lot of emotional depth. It's tinged with sadness and a sense of hope at the same time.
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