Waking From the Dream © by Bob Beardon1998
All Rights Reserved
Webpage by Jilli / Fate

WAKING FROM THE DREAM

By:  Bob Beardon aka   Thon

I travel through a strange land,
confused by all I see.
Yet in this space,
what's out of place,
is really only me.

The sky a color I can't name,
a hue I've never seen.
And flowers grow,
that I don't know,
to mystify the scene.

A stream I see is flowing up
a hill of wavy grass.
And clouds of blue,
now alter hue;
turn amber as they pass.

And butterflies with feathered wings,
flit by upon the air.
And laughter sounds,
from all around,
yet not from anywhere.

Now I must try to figure this,
a puzzle to work out.
A dream so odd,
gives me the nod,
to follow up my doubt.

I know that this is fantasy,
a world that cannot be.
All make believe,
and Fairy weave,
just playing games with me.

And reason and reality, I know
will take my side.
For all it seems,
it's only dreams,
and logic is my pride.

I strive to wake up from it all,
deny that it is true.
And butterflies,
on feathered lies,
will vanish with the dew.

Yet laughter turns to outcry,
as if I did them harm.
And trees that sway,
beg me to stay,
and send a sad alarm.

I laugh to think that this world,
created in my sleep.
Would be so bold,
as try to hold
my mind within its keep.

For if it dies when I awake,
it is not of import.
And flowers that grow,
that I don't know,
will have no day in court.

Now shaking off the bonds of sleep,
it's fading I can see.
And much too late,
I learn my fate,
The dream was really me.