Under the golden maple tree,
nestled in fields of clover, green;
across a meadow of flowers -
that's where my dreams are seen.
Along a trail of fallen leaves,
beside the clear cold streaming brook;
you'll see the dreams I have -
but you must carefully look.
You cannot gaze,  then say,
"I cannot see a thing" -
you must know what dreams look like,
and what such dreams will bring.
Look very close and you will find,
the dreams my heart do hold;
seize the moment and the dream -
if you would be so bold!
Under the golden maple tree,
against the earth so green;
across a meadow of violets,
that's where such dreams are seen.
Along a path of scattered leaves,
beside a fast flowing stream;
look close, look hard,  - you'll see
the reality of my dreams.