If I move from this place then the rhyme will be lost <br />like the dreams when you move from the bed. All the lessons <br />we’ve learned between slumber and light are the truths, never making <br />the pages of knowing. <br /> <br />All we have are these caves living deep in our minds <br />Where potholes are many and where entities speak, on their own <br />in the dark. Here the hand has to steer very close to the soul <br />or it writes on regardless ever emptying out. <br /> <br />All these dreams, they’re for us to pass on when we die <br />so that others can read as they journey thereafter. Your words <br />lit up cities where I chose to roam. A much needed distraction, <br />one I’ve treasured so long. <br /> <br />Your mind softened the pain when I got stuck <br />When these caves heard my cries all alone in the dark <br />You lit paths for me there when the lights went out and you reached for <br />my hand when the rains came down <br /> <br />So while you are a poet who is still undead <br />and the clocks on the walls tick around my longing <br />Show me your pages that remain unread and bring light to these caves <br />where my soul is crawling.......<br /><br />Alison Mary Dunn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-to-a-poet/
