“Waking up elsewhere.”
Today, a poem.
I woke up in another room,
a place I did not know.
I rose out of a bed of leaves,
in this space I had not seen.
A dream, perhaps. But, no.
I would have recognized it so.
For our minds will rarely conjure
those places we don’t know.
It raised questions aplenty,
this room where I awoke.
Its walls were of a forest green,
and its floors were snowy white.
Its ceiling was the sky above,
the deepest, darkest blue.
It shimmered with a nimble light,
of uncharacteristic hue.
There are flowers in the corner,
I see them even now.
They see me as I wander,
and give a solemn bow.
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