Exploration

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was for a picture I took and it's really random but oh well. I like it. :D

Submitted: October 19, 2009

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Submitted: October 19, 2009

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I lay there, thinking of possible dreams, until I fall asleep. My eyes close, and random objects appear all in sync.

As my mind wanders into the unknown, blue waves appear above my head, dancing, but I would never know.

Sunlight escapes from my golden hair, making ready for a new day, on a new horizon, hitting the windows with a glare.

Birds fly silently from the corners of my room, and make nests in my hair. Before I wake up, they untie the knots and fly their families elsewhere.

Steam from the bathroom, of warm showers past, floats out of the open windows, creating dew for the grass to drink. It settles down, and the ground soaks it up, it all coming from the bathroom sink.

At night, the flowers sing, just like in fairytales. But at dawn, their voices get tired. Their leaves and limbs becoming weak and frail. But behind the voices of the flowers, there's a trail. Other flora singing across the world. But you just listen, you don't have to say a single word.

To think, this all happens at night when everyone is sound asleep. The majestic and supernatural transform back into normal after you're done dreaming.

If I would have seen, if I would have heard, I would never fall into slumber, but there would be no room left to wonder. No room left to explore


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