meadows of his mind.

1AM and here I am , wide awake
while Contemplating sleep,

The words keep me alert
like stimulus, a river
They run so deep,

I imagine dancing in his dreams
through meadows of his mind,

touching flowers of mourning
not the bright light kind,

Pretty little blue bells
and daisies with no chain,

Wondering come the Rising sun
if I shall see him again.

nardine Sanderson 06/11/2015.