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Pond of Dreams

Soft lies the lily on my silver pond of dreams,

Floating, oh so gently, among my many schemes.

When all desire has left me, the lily still remains.



Imagine now a fertile garden,

Seeded by the evening stars,

A sweet and gentle brown eyed beauty,

Music from two soft guitars.

Softly dancing in the pathways,

She and I in pure delight,

Drink the wine of love and ever,

Cloth ourselves in pure moonlight.


    Dreams Remembered

A wondrous dream, so perfect it may seem,

Is remembered only when it breaks sleep's silken stream.

Not perhaps, the things that we have eaten,

But the dream itself, refusing to be beaten,

Disrupts our gut, and has us then awaken,

Lest the beauteous dream by memory is forsaken.