deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dreams
A tent flaps and waves,
Covering a skeleton of games.
Yellows and reds once bright,
Forgotten, frayed, losing light.
A creak of pain
Screams the old rides.
To long left to rust,
A plague of brown-
To spread is to die.
A sound echos through the maze,
Of lonely, twisted hopes.
The winds sound eerily of laughter,
As if the park can dream.
In dreams, become reality.
Reality, a forgotten nightmare.
Covering a skeleton of games.
Yellows and reds once bright,
Forgotten, frayed, losing light.
A creak of pain
Screams the old rides.
To long left to rust,
A plague of brown-
To spread is to die.
A sound echos through the maze,
Of lonely, twisted hopes.
The winds sound eerily of laughter,
As if the park can dream.
In dreams, become reality.
Reality, a forgotten nightmare.
Published 23rd Jun 2013
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