Version 2 of Written On My Fifteen Minute Break

He’ll come on a ghostly horse
reaching towards you with a
rose too perfect to be real
A hybrid of beauty and tragedy

His song will rise from the
throat of your dreams but will be
only as real as the words you write
in your dream journal

He smells like times only authors
have lived in their published books
Knights  and tin and yonder words
But you reach for him because

what else is real

Realize that the poems he writes you
are the ones that come from the flow
of words within your dreams
Your sub and semi conscious at work

Morning light will kill him but you can
write him down in memory and keep
re-imagining different versions of his story

By: Kossiwa Kiese Kinshasa Wa Logan

Written On My Fifteen Minute Break

He’ll come on a pure white horse
that dissolves in your dreaming gaze

His offering of too perfect roses will
disintegrate in the sunlight

When he bends his joints they’ll
remind you of an era authored many times

You’ll know that only books can capture
this type of man burnt quickly by reality

But you make room for him in your bed
Can’t believe it’s just you in the morning

Finally alert you smell burnt roses...

By: Kossiwa Kiese Kinshasa Wa Logan