Such Things Our Dreams Are Made Of
Oh what wondrous webs we weave
When deep within our dreams.
It seems to me reality
Is lost beneath such themes.
Moonlit skies our hearts surprise
As we stroll hand in hand
Thoughts that pass between us
Only poets understand.
Yet even lost within such dreams
We know that we must wake.
As dawn steals in through window panes
Our reverie to break.
But if choice is given me,
As to how this plays.
I'll forsake reality,
And dream away my days.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
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