In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”
Perchance that I should happen upon you,
Between the world of wake and dreams,
That we could converse through the centuries,
Of kings and beggars and all that fall between them,
When I could serenade you,
Carried on the currants,
Of an ocean breeze.
You in your bed chamber,
Your ivory throne beside your silent King,
Surrounded by the work of mad artists devoted to you.
And I, a lone traveler on the Devil’s road,
Hastening the hours awake,
In wait for deathly sleep,
To inhale you again,
To lose my soul in that gleaming folds
Of your delicate self,
In you the composition of beautiful madness
Perchance I should happen upon you there
In that space between sleep and wake
That I may have you
For my own
©Michelle Toussaint. All rights reserved.