It is a cold night,
A fearfully freezing Autumnal evening,
I sit staring out of my window,
Elbows propped on the sill and leaning.
A smell is there that I cannot place,
The smell that surrounds the world in rain,
Ploughing ropes of silver rain,
Mother nature wincing in pain.
As my breath clouds my view of nothing,
I cannot help but dream,
My dreams are beyond immagination,
But immagine I do as I sit leaning...
***
Came the visions of love and heart,
Dreams that come to those of shallow mind,
But I am barely skimming the surface of my dreams,
There is much more to find.
As I delve I come across,
A world of peace anc prosperity to all,
But this then makes me frown,
As it leads to questions and brick walls.
As these questions come from my most inner heart,
Spilling forth one after another,
I have to force myself to stop asking,
But to review and randomise others.
Why is there so much hurt?
What deserved it?
When will it heal?
Who could have stopped it?
When will the world come to it's happy ending?
For surely it does have it's own?
I need to know so many things...
How come I feel so alone...
***
A snap, a crack,
The sound of a whip,
Head swimming as I slam back into reality,
And I am back from my dreaming trip.
I look over my shoulder and smile,
There shall be of great talk tonight,
Though dreams ended for the while,
For by the fire sits my lost angel.
My lost angel, with black eyes,
My lost angel, who my dreams are made of,
My, lost, angel.
Indeed there shall be talk of dreams tonight,
Talk of dreams,
With my lost angel...