I have a recurring dream
That I wake up from every time
In sweaty, heart-pounding panic
I am lying in my bed
On the brink of sleep
Tag: Poem
The Streets of London, Poetry by Scarlet Hardy
London it is said, is the right place to be,
Everything costs a fortune and few things come free.
Old and new stand side by side,
Walkways are narrow, but some are long and wide.
WILDsound Festival 