(A Golden Shovel poem that borrows from “Dreams” by Langston Hughes)

(If you are unsure how to read a Golden Shovel- read the last word of each line)

On bitter nights I try to hold

Myself away from falling fast

Asleep that I may not go to

That frightful realm I call my dreams

I detest each visit there, for

I cannot trust in what or when

Forgetting they are only dreams

I fight to leave, but cannot go

They paint a dreadful, tortured life

That’s only sweet deliverance is

A lucid shadow that casts a

Pall on visions dark and barren

Abandoned, hopeless in this field

Dreams that leave your senses frozen

Only pray the terrors go with

Wakening like sun-melted snow