Dreaming - A Sonnet
This has a similar theme to my last poem, but is in the form of a sonnet.
If dreaming of you leads to naught but pain
At chance foregone and juncture yet unknown,
Still dream I shall, to be with you again,
For opened eyes might see that I’m alone.
A dream contains the essence of the real,
A mirror holds the scene intact, pristine,
And dreaming of you surely could reveal
Our love, which, waking, you so oft demean.
But dreams are like the surface of a lake,
A crystal pane, a hanging spider’s web,
And so, once touched, with shards and splinters break,
No more to glisten, only now to ebb.
And now I hope my dreams will clamber from my head,
If not, I fear, I’ll give up life instead.
- Oliver Schofield
