Dream

You lay down your sleep in me
like an endless field
of dreaming corn,
strictly wrapped in an eagles wing

Then you sit there, guarding
my resting place
while the sun pours
from the sky
like blood

What lies in your hands
when I wake up?

Feathers?

Swords?



Poetry by Geir Ove Kvalheim
Read 466 times
Written on 2012-05-28 at 17:53

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