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Variations On A Dream ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1971

Singing bees
And floating trees
Help fill the scented air
With laughter,
Yet something must come after.
Then, once again,
Or so it seems,
You dare invade
My solemn dreams
And I revel in your being,
Without you either
Knowing or seeing.
Panic soars,
It blindly roars,
So should I dial
Yellow pages?
Time drags,
Through countless ages.

I'm walking, picking early roses,
Why turn up your noses?
It's something of a private pastime
Which I've developed my own way,
What is there left to say?
The sun shines in your golden hair,
I watch you with great care
Because I know you saw me last time.
Soon I find that I am sighing,
Tell me why you're crying!

Silent sobbing,
My heart's throbbing,
Aching with concern
For you;
Is there something
I can do?
You say you cry
When flowers die?
I'd really like to know
Why this affects you so.

Now close together we are walking
Lost in pleasant talking,
Whilst dreaming of living forever,
Though aware that's a pure fantasy;
We know it cannot be.
I've managed to suppress your fears
Wipe away your tears.
What happens in our dreams may never
Realise the light of passing day -
Which one of us can say?



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