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Nov 2019
In my dreams I can sing like a bird. Waking up, I just croak trying. It saddens me that I can sing an aria only in my dreams.
I always start on a high note. Why can’t I sustain it? Maybe it is the pollution, the congestion of the air that fails me.

In slumber I am an artist of black and white prints that reveal one mystery after another unfolding before my eyes.
The next day I feel energized to create a masterpiece. Alas, my fingers recoil at the sight of my paltry attempts.

But awake I dance with a light foot and a dizzy head as I circle and swirl to my image’s delight, my heart as my witness.
Written by
Sue Collins
       ---, Violetempath27, ---, Joey, vb and 17 others
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