*** Dreamstuff.  ***

Royal Club for Literature and Peace 

*** Dreamstuff. ***

Sanjay Singh

*** Dreamstuff.  ***

In the soft blur of twilight,

she clung to him—

a girl with eyes like forgotten songs,

laughter and tears tangled in her voice.

Her arms curled around his neck

as if she could hold on forever.

Around them, the world spun—

edges melting, sky swirling—

a dizzy carousel of feeling.

He kissed her cheeks, her forehead,

each touch a quiet promise,

each dream a flicker of light

dancing across her skin.

She was soft—like mist over water,

lost—like a lullaby without a voice,

strange and beautiful—

like angels underwater,

twirling slowly in deep blue silence.

She wasn’t real.

She was dreamstuff, seafoam, starlight.

But then came daylight—

cruel and golden.

It carved him back into the waking world.

Her name still trembled on his lips

as he opened his eyes

to emptiness.

Above a churning sea, he stood—

utterly alone.

And in the waves below,

the only girl he ever loved

was gone—

drowned not just in water,

but inside the echoing caverns

of his soul.

Sanjay Singh

documentation: Waffaa Badarneh