Posted in Writing

Dreams

 Dreams

In the dark of the witching hour
The moon beamed through her open door
And wafted across the snowy blanket
Falling deep in her chocolate hair.
Beyond her eyes, the world was spinning
Away in her highland castle
She followed the stag through the wood
Resting beside a babbling brook.
The colours filled her heart with warmth
Her eyes sparkled, she was happy
The stag stood bold, strong and tall
Among the rocky grey stones.
She dreamt of peace and harmony
She dreamt of the present and history.

Author:

I like to think I'm a story teller. I love stories. I believe the world is filled with stories just waiting to be told and learned. I enjoy travelling down the road less travelled, with my iPhone and journal in each hand. Here you'll find all my poetic musings... Enjoy!

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