My dream: The blue door

I saw a dream last night, and wondered all through the day – what does my dream truly mean? Finally, I decided to write my dream as a poem. In fact, dreams are just like poems, full of oxymora, metaphors and alliterations.


Hope you like it.

The blue door

3am in the morning

Finally I go to sleep

So many thoughts revolve in my head

So many, that it’s hard to keep

I finally cross a river

Before the gush could rise

I do it holding your hand

Even with my closed eyes

I reach the safe place

Behind the blue door

The flood starts to rise

As the skies start to pour

It’s gusty, submerged

the world now seems

A safe place this door

How longer would it be?

As you and me resist the surge

Try to keep the blue door closed

We manage to bolt the urge

But such strong brook, would it hold?

Scores of time passes

I’m still clutching the door

The storm has now passed

But did I let you go

I look around, you, I couldn’t see

Slipped through my fingers? How could it be?

I run the streets, still soaking the rain

And in my heart, I feel this throbbing pain

The picture brightens, I see the sun

What fell apart has been undone

The sky’s now clear, so are our paths

Why not, I wonder, such from the start

And I see you smiling, walking towards me

I feel your touch, your scent in the breeze

The love in the eyes as I see

I kiss your lips; put my heart at ease

My eyes open, I wonder what I had seen

In my thoughts I realize, you had been

And more than ever, I miss our past times, realize

My dream has no meaning, just this rhyme