Of dreams

When direction is lost and I take a wrong turn

I’m perturbed to awake and find I’m at home 

but then I remember in dreams how I yearn  

and how they entice the lonely to roam.    

     
There are days when I linger half comatose

and days that I live in disbelief, fear, 

but then I remember the book isn’t closed

though fragile and old in this atmosphere.

And so of my dreams they’re completely intact

for love’s energy must refuse solitude

in its need to honour and respect spirit pacts

made always to still human inquietude.

But how restless are we like jitterbugs, fleas,

in the shadow of all we’re not meant to be!

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