The Wordsmiths Book 2021

Waking up to Dreams

Dawn comes, Too early, By the path of dreams, Tantalisingly - grasp - in - his - arms - real,

Where he sees himself with her, But not in his - waking - reality.

In this dream, they are impossibly lithe, Her soft auburn hair, Is long, wafting in a ‘Woodstock’ breeze, (He likes that gentle time, Those gentle people, With flowers in their hair).

They are not too young, In his dream, And this is not first love,

But young enough, And just old enough to know, to cherish what they have. Priceless.

This is the best love, Second - time - around - love, Second chances, Forced through jilted love, Sweeping past pain, Abuse, and lovers who thought they knew them only too well, To love them, As they should.

Into this space, Holding hands, He sees in his dream, Where they are, Out, in nature, Green grass, wild trees, Mortal but ‘living forever’, And he speaks, “I’m just going to say it. I have never felt as content,

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