I dream an angel's
lap is my pillow. Do not
want to open my eyes. Why
would an angel visit
an ancient tenement? If
I wake to find she has
taken her leave, I will
be troubled, wondering
if she was truly here at all.
I dream an angel . . .
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
She was there, she was there.
I love having dreams like that. Is it real? For that moment, the angel is real enough ❤
And that is all that matters.
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How much can we take from our dreams?
That is a very insightful question.
A beautiful dream and beautiful reality. This is lovely Sara!
I love the play between dream and reality! Really well done, Sara.
Thanks so much, Dora!
Angels leave no footprints, doesn’t mean they haven’t walked through your soul Sara.
That’s a beautiful thought, Rob!
Very cool, Sara.
I believe if one came to me in a dream that it was a gift to carry me into the daylight hours…