So the merchant delivers a dream, you see,
packed and bound by the free
to make of the day a tearful foray
into the feel of human dismay.
And I cannot say, “No, wrong address”
and never can there be any redress
kindly paid to the dreamer in me
when asleep to perceptions of real.
The dreaming, I know, brings in belief
and dances the dance of relief
but ‘tis really a monster untamed
sent to make a woman enflamed.
Watch out, watch out, monsters abound
but don’t bother with looking around
because nothing hidden can ever be seen
except in an extraordinary dream.
And I dream again, again and again
the feel of a beautiful “then”
enhanced in the confines of mind
that maybe can see into time!
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