©2023 michael raven
i think i have
forgotten my name
it does not matter
not so much, anyway
that was another time
and in another place
impossible to believe
that face belonged to me
was i dreaming of
that narrow bridge?
or was i dreaming
of today?
picket fence in whitewash
locusts droning in the shade
sceadugenga 
💕💕💕💕💕
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Thank you!
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I love your poetry…🙂💕🙏
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I appreciate you saying so, more than I can say. 🙂
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I’m glad I did 🙂🙂🙂
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Love this continuation of the same thought as the previous poem, how do we know what’s real and what’s not? It’s a question those of us with vivid dreams must decide for ourselves.
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I’ll be honest: If I am dreaming, I sometimes would rather not bother waking.
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