Oubliette

My dreams, they sing
a song that brings
the world imagined to life

The tune – it goes,
and ebbs and flows;
a dance that lifts and delights

It haunts me well
enough to tell
the song will not live again

For my dream dies
when sleep-filled eyes
open to greet the morning

But night, it seems,
will bring new dreams
for me to forget once more

One of my many attempts at trying to write a poem. One down, three more to go.

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