Eleven: Night’s Illusions

Night’s Illusions

It seems it is all a dream
A pleasant mishmash of confusion
I was fine when I went to sleep
Now the pictures flash like an illusion

Beauty of body very bold
Images sharp over laid in folds
Sensuous, desirable, a story told
A woman’s beauty never grows old

The gentle brush of scented hair
Color, thoughts flashing about
Warmth and excitement fill the air
How will this dream work out?

Another flash, a clashing sound
The alarm set to kill dreams
Brilliant images falling all around
Back to sleep, should I try?

Try learn the girls name?
Get up and start my day?
I suspect I’ll never be the same
Not after meeting, the girls with no name

[end]

Artwork: Frank Cunha III | Poetry: Carl Watts | More Poetry

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Sincerely,
Frank Cunha III 
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