Sometimes, in dreams, Paul sees his band mate, John.
Of course, John Lennon hasn't aged a day.
Paul, himself, has felt the touch of time.
His skin is paper-thin; his hair gone grey.

Paul reaches for an instrument to play
but alas, his dream guitar hasn't any strings.
John provides a softly lyric line
so Paul must be content to hear him sing.

Paul wakes up from his pleasant dream
hoping to recall the words that he heard sung.
Somehow he cannot recall the lyrics;
It's not easy as Paul's no longer young.

Sometimes in dreams, we see beloved dead;
projections, perhaps, of our hopes and fears.
We imagine stringed instruments that gently weep
And, doing so, mock our bootless tears.