Awakened by a dream #poetry

In the darkest hour of  night

when sleep had its strongest grasp

under the silvery glow

of a radiant moon

if you listened you would hear

a  soft fluttering

gentle steps

as she quietly slipped in


she neither needed nor wanted

more than the moon

she found what she sought

a chest barely rising and falling

up turned lips lit by the ripple of light

endeared to her dreamer

her hands painting on a warm canvas


In a startle, his eyes opened


It was she

his dream

she was all he could think of when awake

she always came in his deepest sleep

their dance was magical

only witnessed by the moon


she slipped out quietly

contented sigh exhaled

his lips relished the memory

another perfect dream

“Jusqu’ à la prochaine fois” she whispered

as she tiptoed into the night

Thanks for joining us for another week of One Shot Wednesday. One Stop Poetry strives to be a community where poets can gather encouragement and inspiration from each other. Please enjoy!!!

Yes the One Stop Poetry team was there (cyberly speaking)


49 thoughts on “Awakened by a dream #poetry

  1. This one is outstanding Leslie,
    The moon and her painting and his need
    A beautiful and so delicate dream… which could only be written as from the moon, the greatest observer



  2. “Jusqu’ à la prochaine fois” – what a visitor! i should brush up my french to be able to talk to her in case she visits me one night – but maybe there’s not a lot of talk needed then…smiles… really beautiful leslie


    1. I’m really wanting to brush up myself. There was a time I could write a whole paper in French. but then you are right I doubt she is that talkative


  3. Lovely, lovely, evocative poetry. For some reason it reminds me of a piece of ancient Japanese poetry I read recently…”The Moon and thee”.

    There is a simplicity of this that makes it clear, clean, and goes easily to the heart. I find this sort of poetry the kind that burrows deep in the heart and memory.

    Thank you, Leslie.

    Lady Nyo


    1. I’m a children’s writer that’s where the simplicity must come from I hear that all the time – simple down home


  4. Amazing what one can do in dreams Leslie. It’s always a pleasure to read your work. Our snow is gone, I’d have loved to try and throw a transatlantic one!


    1. thanks that picture was amazing. My problem is I need to shoot a bunch and then write poetry around it not the other way where I need to scramble for a pic


    1. who wants to wait for dreams??? when I was a kid I would try to force a dream sequence – it’s a form of escape – not meaning to sound freudian


    2. his name is Lee Ward, had clients sintitg there with him in his office.All I needed to do was give him my credit card number so he could hold a31,399 from it just incase I delayed in sending the the documents for the new owners!!Ofcourse, I smelled a rat!! I told him I don’t use cards or cheques.He’s calling me again today to see if I’ve talked my husband into using HIS card for the transaction.i’m going to have a bit of fun with Lee Ward when he rings today!!Another name within Excalibur is Sally Hansen, she contacted me the day before Lee Ward, to see if I wanted to sell my CCConcierge, I said I did then wham! Lee’s on the phone with buyers in his office the next day.I was duped by CCConcierge into paying out a35,000 a few short years ago, money down the drain as far as I’m concerned’s not going to happen a second time!!!


  5. Aahh.. such a beautiful personification of a dream…
    And if he’s good (to me, it’s a “he”, you know), it’s I who whispers to him ‘until the next time, my dear’…

    A dreamy poem, Moonie… so I see you have witnessed many such dances as these, huh? Lucky you…
    (hugs and wishes for the new year)


  6. Ah, but she does exist; the tangibility is in the thought and thoughts are real, therefore the dream which you allow me to float upon is real. I was actually holding my breath and only realized this halfway through your poem; therefore, this poem did indeed take my breath away. Sweet dreams!


  7. There’s this Dr. Who where David Tennant and the girl who plays Rose see a young girl through a mirror and when Dr. Who passes through he helps the girl who will be the mistress of Louis XVI and while he is going back & forth she ages 30 years or so in each few minutes. This reminded me of that story..a young girl, a grown woman, an old woman, then gone “until next time”. Beautifully told in your poem in such simplicity and elegant lyricism. Thanks, Gay @beachanny


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