What Dreams May Come
- wateryourcellphone
- Jul 10
- 1 min read
At the end there is a house with a crowded table
And chairs of all heights, housing knees
That kick the underside of the wood
accidentally when they bounce while they laugh.
Old friend,
Breathe close, even if we’ve just met
And everything is shared at the onset
Old friend,
You’ve shown me in that mirror, your eyes
All the ways I have changed
Old friend,
Our objects outlive us, you know
You are unlucky, not permanent leather, just
So simple, you eat
And sleep
Automatic alive, like me.
by Timothy Donahue
