Last time I visited my dreams,
I travelled overnight by bus
with only a backpack
and a novel for company;
no food, some cosmetics,
a change of clothes.
I arrived mid-afternoon,
(the weather unexpectedly warm),
as lost as any refugee in a vast city,
disturbing the flow of commuters
with my uncertain stride,
my habit of stopping to gawp at
white churches and equestrian statues,
side stepping fat pigeons,
taking the back streets
hoping to find home,
not realising this strange place
has problems of its own.
Posted in
Poetry / RunousComments
2 responses so far.
2 Responses
Ann Porro
13 February 2011 at 15:04
Hi1
Lovely to see my poems up there, but you’ve missed the last line of ‘Notes on a Dream.’ It should read ‘not realising this strange place/has problems of its own.’ I hope I didn’t email it to you like that! It doesn’t make sense without the final line…
I’m hearing lots of good comments about hesainprint from friends. Good luck
Best wishes
Ann Porro
ann
Anna
13 February 2011 at 21:35
Hi Ann,
Sorry about that, all fixed now :)
Anna