The Dream

.

Wild horses scream across my dream,

Dust puffs from their hooves

Rise from the arid ground,

Rolling eyeballs red with blood,

Foam flecks flying from their mouths,

Shapes shift in short shrift,

Clouds move and meld as I watch

There in the ozone God’s own movie show.

.

©DGA 15 December 2011 06:08