Skip to main content

Sandman

There are pillows
waiting for heads to fall.
As night time
is lowered,
the sandman called.
With a sigh, a blink,
a yawn, and a stretch,
the day is gone
yet...
there are dreams to catch.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Harboring regret

Off The Hook, a short poem

Off The Hook by Beth Achenbach She smells of perfume and smoke,  her dangling hook has caught so many people that adore her. Today she is letting them loose  as she drives towards the blue and clouds. The rusty vision of that car,  her graying hair waving in the wind. The woman is escaping from this old city.  A place called home,  but now littered with waste and nature overgrown. Wildness spills out of it’s cracks  as clunky trucks carry their loads,  dead parts of the city  dumping at an unknown location  beyond the concrete barriers. Brick walls once brilliant with their reddish facades  now crumble to the touch. Windows boarded up  with warped plywood from the frequent rains  haven’t seen the light in years. The woman crosses over the city limits  trying not to be overcome with the heaviness  that she will never return. She deeply inhales the new air,  turns up the old car’s radio  and tosses h...

Trees are Inspiring