poetry & things

Winter dreams

When I wake in winter, to howling winds

a head of dreams still swirling, spins

my body aches forlorn, bury myself warm

sometimes half asleep, upon the pillow

fall back, softly deep

witness myself surreal

float, I walk or run through

strangest worlds, hurled through

time, I climb upside down

back out, from dreams – awake

eerily shiver, winter’s cold

to shake

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