After Robert Frost
Just where I am, I do not know.
My mind is full of storm clouds though;
I wish I did not fall asleep
and let the twilight nightmares flow.
Over craggy cliffs I leap,
hoping I’ll my footing keep
as I am running through this race
against the monsters large and steep.
But I must overtake this space
and put those monsters in their place.
A lucid plan I now do make.
A slow grin spreads across my face.
A voice might whisper, “This is fake,”
but I have dreamy worlds to break,
and hours to go before I wake,
and hours to go before I wake.
This poem takes its form from “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost, which is now in the public domain.