Nightmares

My nightmares

are my own;

unfelt and unseen

yet the tremors

are heard in the morn,

dull echoes

hidden in sharp alarms,

falling to sleep

waking to rise

life to day

death to night,

ending its story

as we all do

in our fatal haste to new

Author: faithhealthandmusings

When life offers us so rich a bounty of inspiration, how can we help but to reflect in writing all that climbs into our hearts and takes up residence there?

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