A Dream
A crowd at the capital.--- Looking up.
Backlit from the sun. The son was floating
down slowly upon America in
full view. Knowing somehow the world saw too.
It was a dream but I knew who it was.
He was dressed in pure white. I saw the cloth
radiating light. The same person I was
brought up to know. The dream ends. And I woke.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.