A Dream – Vincent Edward Manda

We stole grains from the sandman

To make our dreams

Last a little longer

And for a while,

The moon stopped running

To smile upon our fantasies


Before hastening away

On her cold trail

Which would soon

Be set ablaze

By her jilted paramour,

Who enwrought in the

Dreaded light of understanding

Pursued her hotly.


As the red sun

Kissed the sleeping hills

Beyond the river we never crossed

We saw dreams pave way

For reality

And realised that

Even the longest night

Abounding in tempered kisses

And passionate embraces,

Comes to end.


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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