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Alison Marr

Flash fiction, poetry and other musings.

Lincoln's Dream

November 13, 2019 | Poetry

My dream has hung around me like a shroud

I cannot shake it and it smells of fear

When I woke I could hear voices weeping loud

But in all the rooms there was no one near

All through the White House the pitiful cries

Led me to the East Room where soldiers stood

Around a catafalque where a corpse did lie

And when I asked them who I understood

That it was I the President who’d died

Ten days this dream has lain heavy on me

Tonight I’ll seek theatre and levity