Dreaming About My Own Wife

It wasn’t true. It had to be

Some sort of dreamed up fantasy;

But then I wake up, suddenly,

And find you’re still here next to me


It’s strange recalling early days:

It is slow motion, like a haze,

There’s you beneath the sun’s last rays

Those days we set the world ablaze


But now it’s dark, and you’re asleep.

It’s strange, the memories we keep,

That come so strong, so bright, so clear,

And make me glad that you’re

Still here

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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