Susan Gibb’s first draft in response to the poetry challenge
The Age of Dreams
by Susan GibbI flew when I was little
around the cotton candy room at night,
in and out the windows
with a soft swoosh of feathers
and eagle eyes to pierce
my sister’s dreaming sleep
and peer inside her head.
I’d glide above
her bed
and giggle.These days I roam through
endless grey rooms in houses
built like factories filled
with friends in folding chairs.
My path defined
by hellos and conversation,
I maneuver, looking for
and never find
the red door
leading out.
There’s a nice beat here between “door” and “leading.”
Are we workshopping this piece?
No, it was just in response to Steve’s challenge. I found the notion of time and experience affecting our dreams intriguing and scribbled something out based on my own dreams, noting the persistence of movement and rooms. But comments are more than welcome.