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Shortage of Breath

The dream of Thomas still clings to the edges of my consciousness, a vivid haunting that left me gasping for air the moment I broke the surface of sleep. While lost in that subconscious encounter, my breathing grew shallow and frantic, mimicking the tiny, staccato inhalations of a mouse as if my lungs had suddenly lost their capacity for depth.  The air became a scarce luxury I couldn't quite reach within the confines of the dream, and the suffocating pressure of those minute, rapid breaths eventually forced my eyes open in a desperate bid for survival. Now, I am left in the quiet dark, my chest heaving to reclaim the oxygen I lost, while the memory of Thomas lingers in the heavy, still air of the room.
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Whistle a Tune of Twinkle

Whistle a Tune of Twinkle




Whistle a tune of twinkle,
A melody in the night,
With stars up in the heavens,
That sparkle pure and bright.

The moon is softly glowing,
As shadows dance and sway,
While fireflies are drifting,
In their own sweet ballet.

There’s music in the garden,
Where dreams and laughter play,
With whispers of the breezes,
To guide us on our way.

So whistle a tune of twinkle,
Let joy and magic soar,
For every note is precious,
And life’s a song to explore!




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