Broken

It was a nightmare, a dream
that brought me awake, afraid, wishing
instantly that it was beyond recall,

But my brain insisted on recalling
those images of that horror-dream,
mocking my hopes and feeble wishes.

The truth is that time will twist that wish
and when my memories, my trusted recall
fades, I will want again that fearful dream:

That broken dream I’ll wish I could recall.

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the Tritina prompt at Poetic Asides.