Sometimes the illusions are real,
Sometimes they are the only thing that matters
In the hurly-burly of this world.
Sometimes the scream is the only sound,
And it goes round and round forever.
To the deeps and to the heavens,
To the forest and the oceans.
Round and round in never ending motion
Powered by imagination –
Driven by a dream.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published 27 February 2018
Made of sticks and stones 
This is nice.
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Thank you very much, glad you like it.
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A beautiful write
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Thank you Danny, I found the first few lines in an old notebook. Nice to be able to go back and make something out old.
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Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
A poem for the sometimes …
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