When I dream of you,
Comes song,
Two country folk men come alive.
Tears of the song falls,
Of us,
Begging us more for simple time.
For I dream of you,
BanJoed,
Hearing the soft ballad of cards.
The playing of times,
Enticed,
Knowing you’re far apart in yards.
Here I dream of you,
Of song.

Birds will always be,
To spread & fly their wings.
The glory of birth,
Dear nature’s mothers sing.
Art takes time to grow,
Us as flowers to bloom.
Bewildered the wild,
Here for us to consume.
So inspiring,
The winds for me to tell.
Grooming trees to talk,
Grown tall to wish you well.
Let the sun set on,
Always new tomorrow.

What a dream of writers,
Upon its grand galore?
Lifting hands upon Poe,
To ask forever more?
An Ernest near his sea,
Of Dante’s own heaven.
Fun to see Angelou,
With The loved Whitman be.  
My dear Plath of saving,
Nestled on her pillows.
So pleased to see the Frost,
Odd this time of willows.
Pleased my own time of miles,
A spirit dream of niles.

Seeing you all brawled up,
Gets the best of me.
Don't know why in this life,
Seeing your beauty.
All fixed bruises and scars,
Forced for me to care.
Poisoning white devils,
For the fallen ones.
I to rise in it all,
Till fixed seasons come.
The best of my conscious,
Luring a dark void.
Hoping to swallow me,
The best of me whole.