Challenging Poetry

into the dreamscape

. . . and the dreamscape changes
into white and gold,
with dark browns swimming
in cinnamon songs,
and a guinea pig sits with her
legs folded like a yogi,
eyes closed.

and if she said something,
it would have been the answer,
to everything.
but she isn't talking.
her silence is white—as loud
as blood rushing through veins—and
the gold of velvet.
and the dreamscape changes . . .

Author's Note ▼

line count: 15
prompt: dreams

This poem happened because I was talking about writing poetry and told my sister that the prompt was dreams, and she said:
I had a dream last night. It was white and gold.
and Dad said: You dream in color?
And she said: with dark brown bits. And there was our niece's gerbil--the white and gold one, and he could talk but wasn't.
And I thought to myself . . . this is a poem.