Morphine
by Michael Tusa
Can't I dream
and be left dreaming?
Until the light grows faint and dim.
to leave me
falling in the curtain
dropping off the moon.
Can't I dream
and be left dreaming?
Until the ivy hides me in
to leave me
sleeping in the garden
softly drifting in the flume.
Can't I dream
and be left dreaming?
Until the dreams start growing thin.
and all is lost but paradise
and I dream to dream again.
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Author's Note
Yeah.
Other stories by Michael Tusa
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*Very* pleasurable to read aloud.
It has (as you are aware) a timeless musicality.
How very nice of you to say Matt. I'm glad you can find a music to my words. I like to write with a bit of rhythm, as it allows the poem to breathe. I also find it is much more enjoyable to read!
The purpose of poetry is pleasure
(pure and pimple).
This is not my typical sort of "thing" but I very very much enjoyed it. Props.