Dancing Flowers

As I lay awake resting in my bed
staring at the ceiling, an empty head

not a single thought enters there at all
watching the tiny flowers on the wall

they start to dance; I stare as I lay still
a fear, I’m curious, or am I ill?

Flowers parading all in long straight rows
swaying from side to side, and why, who knows

so strange to see, they say it is a dream
a little boy with lots of tales to glean

or just my vivid thoughts, or just a lie
I swear I saw but understand not why

fifty years have passed, at my mother’s bed
a wall of flowers right behind her head

unlike the little ones that I once knew
they seem so bold, they have so grew and grew

do they remember me from way back when?
for when I stared, they danced for me again.

© D Marsden 2018

Published by Dave's Poetry & Mystery...

Hi. I am a retired builder. Born in 1954. My interests are: motorcycling, cycling, woodworking, wood carving, visiting countryside, reading, writing poetry, short stories, writing mystery and of course my new interest is blogging.

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