Poetry 365 | Day 69 | Sonnet 11
I dream of fairies in the afternoon,
They circle my head as they kiss my cheeks:
Pointing at the sky they cherish the moon;
Even when it has been waning for weeks.
The children of the fields like to frolic–
Painting the sky with bright, beautiful hues,
Haunting the dreams of each alcoholic,
Pacing the floor in another man's shoes;
Then tricking their way to the table top,
Changing their faces to suit the next crowd,
Making the merry-go-round never stop,
So that no foolish man can talk to loud.
Remember that the sweet colors are cast,
To make a spell's potency come to pass.
--Stephen Martin, 3/10/19
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In a nutshell, post your poetry below for consideration in my monthly, online, blockchain, poetry journal.
What's your 365?
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