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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