It’s the motif of my life to dream things that other don’t dream,
So while I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me,
And I walked through a hazy field, until the cool moon broke the horizon,
And the glorious clouds began to swell and bellow until they sang,
That as you spoke those words of yours were soothing sweet rain.

I let the drops fall to parade about my mind,
They washed my weariness and spoke of the refined,
But rain may not always be tame, and so joyous,
Too much can be alarming and ominous,
The nascent of floods that drown air in lungs
Or causes the sprout of a little seed I buried deep,
From a past that I don’t want to repeat.

So that as I lingered through these rain drops
In this large outstretched field; the seed’s buds vegetated
Into glorious trees stretching out, so at their sight my foot stops;
And clustering their branches they yielded a lustrous fruit,
The mere sight quivered my tongue in desire to make them sweat their juice,
But though it may be glorious such fruit has potential to offend;
I’d eaten it before; though scrumptious, with its effects
Now I feared to taste it once more,
Yet it now grew before me yet again.

My heart’s beats rang an alarm bell as I swallowed my inducing saliva,
That quickly I began to pluck them from where they grew,
So all were hastily pulled, as though their sight would be as eyeing Godiva,
And behind my back (to cease their being at my front) I threw,
Turning to leave -- there they all exhibit, elegantly displayed,
All neatly piled before me where they were accidently reaped,
In fear I grabbed them for their destruction and I started to run
Searching for a ravine, to dump this tempter that I heaped.

The sweet smell illuminated, I looked at the lovely red orbs,
I pulled one out, and rain drops continued to pour,
The more rain that fell, the more I would adore,
The fruit beckoned a bite, a small bit to absorb;
Always the rain continued to pour.

The rain led me on, so I thought it could be,
So I took a bite of the fruit that it made me see,
The taste was all but what I see in a dream’s eye,
For in a dream is all where the glory of such tastes lie.

This revelation struck me hard with that first small bite
The thunder clapped before me with a flashing bright,
I slipped in the mud, all the fruit upon my back rotting
Fell to the ground, splattered, dripping, melting in despair,
I dared to dream of you with that bite right there,
But it’s the motif of my life to dream of things that others don’t dream,
So, when I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me.