Dreams

©2003 Harvey H. Warwick III

Now silently I wander through the chambers of the night
Beyond the doors of sleep, where memory’s the only light.
How strangely juxtaposed the many faces that I see
Who know not one another, and whose only bond is me.
A world unlike all others is the one I see in dreams:
A world complete unto itself, yet made for me, it seems,
Impinging on my waking world when I am most fatigued.
I long to go back there each night; it has me quite intrigued.
Yet scarcely can I now recall the dreams I had last night
For when I’m in my waking world, they vanish from my sight.
But when I once again return unto the land of sleep
It’s like I never went away. I wish that I could keep
On staying there, without a care, but it’s not meant to be.
And not all dreams are sweet, it seems; from some, I turn to flee.
When bursts of inspiration come upon me in a dream
I sometimes wake to write them down while in my mind they gleam.
Not otherwise could I recall them by the light of day
For once I have a dream, I find it swiftly fades away.

8/03