Today’s poem for Paul Brookes’ challenge is inspired by this painting, They’re supposed to be my dreams by Marcel Herms.
This is what you get, says the Sandman,
teeth and hands red and running,
this is what you get because there’s nothing else.
I shake my head until it almost drops off,
limp as a frost-bitten rose bud,
and the ocean stretches deep and blue and glittering.
The bringer of nightmares turns
away, and the world goes black
as a Sandman’s cloak, but in the dark
the waves still gleam
with the dancing of dolphins
and the golden sheen of apples,
and I smile
because he doesn’t know
that there are dreams too.