carousel spinning by anelephantcant

carousel spinning by anelephantcant

I think of the pictures that dance in my head
I guess I am speaking of dreams
They visit in the hours I’m asleep in my bed
And I know they are flakes of moonbeams 

Sometimes I awaken and ask them to speak
They hide shyly in the corners of the night
I imagine with a smile that they play hide and seek
Staying forever just out of my sight 

They tantalise me though they are not quite real
They slide behind or just under the dark
Tormenting my vision until I start to feel
I see the shadow of a day in the park

I visit grey places where I am but a transient
Streets I walked in my youth with old friends
My footsteps as soft as a butterfly’s intent
Till the chill fog once more gently descends 

I fancy a carousel spinning high in the sky
wonderful places unknown
The clouds and the crowds serenely float by
 as always I am left all alone 

I recall those life-changing all night conversations
But great wisdom remains sadly unsaid
I glimpse the rising sun’s pink dawn sensations
As I ephemerally walk by the Med 

For that fraction of all time I am happy as a child
My toes feel sand and the kiss of the sea
My heart and my soul carefree running wild
I dream of her and how things used to be


This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to moonbeams

  1. Makes me feel like a kid again. 🙂


  2. Susan Langer says:

    You paint a beautiful picture with your poetry. The imagery is sublime. 🙂


  3. Penny L Howe says:

    Fantastic! Totally love it. Honestly, sounds like the perfect description of the places in your dreams, or otherworld, or alltime … all the above. xo


  4. Dale says:

    AnElephantCant has a beautiful voice to go with his words; a sweet and sad romantic.

    I just wanted to let you know that I had to put my volume on max and still could barely hear you. Should you choose to grace us with your voice as well as your words in the future (as I hope you do), you may want to use a microphone,


  5. Dear Elephant,

    Flakes of moonbeams…how I love that image. So much longing beautifully written between the lines. Obviously an elephant can be tender and gentle.




  6. emmylgant says:

    Reads and sounds like a dream.
    ‘tormenting my vision until I start to feel’ — fabulous.


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