by t.o. crow
The spoken words swirled
round and round
oscillated into murmuring sound
by the old fan as they floated
on its currents of air
and blew gently through my head.
There the words turned into dreams
that reeled through my brain
like old movie scenes
filled with fairies and dragons
and princes and things.
Images all so real.
In the space of that nap,
on my grandmother's couch,
Time stood condensed
and Still.
TOC
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