Morpheus
by Sean
In an old film-grade black,
within a scratched spot-light,
there sits a lonesome chair.
And in a blink
the Dream King sits before me.
And thus he spoke to me;
His words were wise,
not particularly kind,
but just they were.
And in that far off desert
with its heat
that chair does wait.
The Dream King paces,
awaiting me.
really cool:)
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Thank you.
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