On his Beckoning

A surreal poem, by Harinder, where she meets the Bard, exclusively for Different Truths.

Writing, sitting on my armchair,
Soon, I could no sounds hear.
With a pen and book on my lap,
I tried to catch a quick nap.
Strange visions started coming to me,
Even without my spectacles l could clearly see.
I saw the architecture of olden times,
Huge structures, high roofs, long wind chimes.
A door opened with a creaking sound,
“Come in,” someone said, without looking around.
An old man, with moist eyes,
Looked at my shape and size.
He told me, he was a man of the past,
And thanked me that I had come at last,
To visit him and his friends,
As for a long time, messages he had sent.
But, he said, “Oh! my dear!”
Still, nobody came here.
I had been waiting for you here,
In the palace of King Lear.
And by the way, I am William Shakespeare.

Visual by Different Truths