Being Ill And Alone Poem by James McLain
Being Ill And Alone
Shollow my sleep
I have heard muffled sounds
very close in the mist
the mist I breath out in my
dreams.
Dreaming
below in the valley
along the stone steppes
trodding
down from behind me.
The rusty iron gate
moves in and out
leaving
red stains behind me.
While I dream each night
different odd dreams
trying to find the one
dream
where I'm not alone
I wait for the dream
that is right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 7:23:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
