In Dreams...3001 Poem by DM W

In dreams, I move between the house of mirth
And the house of sorrow. Sometimes, roses
Are in bloom and sometimes they wither. Birth
And death appear, as curtains open and close.
They spread themselves across so many rooms.
They turn into myriad shapes and forms.
Some of them reveal light, others bring doom.
Some are wintry, others bring summer's warmth.
All of life's scenes seem to be replayed here.
Whether I encounter Heaven or Hell,
I walk a fine line between hope and fear.
Perhaps this is where poets often dwell.