Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping, and dreaming.

How did I get here?
I thought one escapes in evening
Yet, tonight I am still here,
But as always I am sleeping.

Turn off the light
Pause the music of time,
And worlds unfold beneath my eyes.

I feel them as if they were pressing upon my skin.
I taste them as if they coated my tongue.
I see them as if they are inches ahead of me.
I know them as real and not,
But real, and not?

Then morning.

Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping and breathing.

I was there.
But where?
Not really here, nor there.
But somewhere.

Where I am now?
Here.
Again.
And again.
What is real?
Sarah Richardson
Written by
Sarah Richardson  25/F/Toronto
(25/F/Toronto)   
416
   Bogdan Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems