The feeling of flying in my feet,
stepping lightly,
I’ve got somewhere to be,
but all I can think of
is dreams.

They followed me when I rose,
took the shortcut
met me at the door
intercepted me between thought
and action;

The same dream
resurfaces, chasing
changing each day
but with the same face.

I get lost in a breath
between exhaling and inhaling
there’s a moment;
when I am completely exposed.

Is it there?
Is this where the dreams have crawled in?
Paying no rent,
nor heed,
blowing warmth into their hands
lighting little fires within me –
where flames have long been banished.

September ’09


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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