My Recurring Dream
I find my dreams to be a little strange.
Particularly a specific recurring dream.
These dreams begin with old fashioned beauty.
The same old wooden picket fence.
A picket fence that surrounds a forgotten garden.
Blossoming tress can be seen beyond the roof,
Behind an old run-down weather board house.
A weather board house with dusty windows,
Windows you can only just see through.
Upon opening the large, old wooden door.
I see the same old attic stairs in the ceiling.
You know the ones you pull down with a cord.
I see the same decorations enhanced on the wall.
I again see the dusty windows you can just see through.
You can see the summer heat trying warm the room.
I see rooms that never change,
That always stay the same.
My family seem to have disappeared
As they are never to be seen.
One day I may find out what it means.
One day I may even want it to end.
(C) Cindy Richmond
5th August 2011
Particularly a specific recurring dream.
These dreams begin with old fashioned beauty.
The same old wooden picket fence.
A picket fence that surrounds a forgotten garden.
Blossoming tress can be seen beyond the roof,
Behind an old run-down weather board house.
A weather board house with dusty windows,
Windows you can only just see through.
Upon opening the large, old wooden door.
I see the same old attic stairs in the ceiling.
You know the ones you pull down with a cord.
I see the same decorations enhanced on the wall.
I again see the dusty windows you can just see through.
You can see the summer heat trying warm the room.
I see rooms that never change,
That always stay the same.
My family seem to have disappeared
As they are never to be seen.
One day I may find out what it means.
One day I may even want it to end.
(C) Cindy Richmond
5th August 2011