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Literature Text
I lie here, staring, at my ceiling so bland,
Then dream, of a world, of a different land.
The people are friends, who laugh and play.
They all join in dance, in a merry way.
I wish I could be involved with their life,
But they cannot see me with their joy so rife.
I am but a mist, a cloud, that passes.
You will not spot me, not even with glasses.
Bright sunshine I see, for their future ahead.
I lie and I stare, just thinking, on my bed.
Then dream, of a world, of a different land.
The people are friends, who laugh and play.
They all join in dance, in a merry way.
I wish I could be involved with their life,
But they cannot see me with their joy so rife.
I am but a mist, a cloud, that passes.
You will not spot me, not even with glasses.
Bright sunshine I see, for their future ahead.
I lie and I stare, just thinking, on my bed.
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hmm a simple rhyme, and a small thought. but it's what i'm doing at the moment.
© 2008 - 2024 Oughter
Comments3
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I really like this piece. The narrator seems both socially and existentially cut off from others. One feels his (or her) pain. My favourite line is, 'You will not spot me, not even with glasses' - I find that funny and sad.