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*Posts from Before the Dawn to Cynicism and a Glass of Wine were written before the blog was created-(July 2008, November 2009- January 2010)

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Katie M. Moss

She said I don’t’ know when I’ll get there, to that place I’ve often seen--
To that place inside my dreams,
A little thread, within the seams.

Every day I hear its call, a little fainter
As I watch the snowy sidewalk,
As I gaze into the street.
To that place inside my dreams.

There it’s bright and never cloudy,
It is silent, warm, serene.
No one tells me anything,
Stitched in that place inside my dreams.

To be sure, you’ll never find it
‘Lest you drink this potion down
Says Irene the white angel,
Who flies without wings.

She flutters around me.
But she cannot wield my dreams.
If she could, I wouldn’t let her,
For they are built especially for me.

Night falls. I crack the shutters.
I ease my way between,
See my harried, troubled eyes
A product of moon beams.

They will never touch me now
With their filthy hands of hate
With their potions, ties, and keys.
I will fly into the night,
I will whisper softly, please.

I will slowly drift away,
Into the clouds of misty dreams.
To the place of in-between.
Say goodbye to everything.