Sunday, August 22, 2004


When did you waken, dreamer?
Your memory sings nonsense
in each window I pass.

Dreamer, walk with me.
These streets are whispering
tunes you have not heard.

In the dark, my dreamer.
In the dark, they sing
of endless sleep and mirrors

that hold your memory.

Stephen Brooke ©2004

This is one of those poems that arose from words-- read what you will into it. It is not meaningless (it holds plenty of meaning for me) but it has no explicit message. "Walk with me" and see what you discover.

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