Our own dreams

Last night
as insomnia struck,
I woke up and watched my
dreams walk out of my
eyes, perhaps
to sit and dance softly
on yours
as you sleep.
Being on two separate journeys
and holding each others’ hand,
we were never meant
to dream together.

The lost rhymes

Feelings, of late,
hasn't been flowing truthfully
on unfriendly terrains
like the Okavango
does every year, raising hopes to
millions of lives that await its
might.
Feelings, I find, has been
suicidal of late.
Else why should I not breathe
knowing fully well I will die
If I don't,
putting on hold my whole
system, stopping it from
rhyming with you!