Once more I dream of Istanbul where light perfumes and Eastern tunes conspire to set my sleep on fire
in my dreams this city seems to sparkle in the evening sky and as I wander by Topkapi,
I see treasures in the architecture
and jewels in the very stone that builds into the home of artefacts and in times gone by, this building was the East of many men who desired to steal what was within.

I always dream of Istanbul when my life is not as full as I think it ought to be
and I see it as a mental therapy that helps me sort the wheat from chaff,and
belly dancing girls who laugh and serve up raki , I see pearls that peep from midriffs bare,
a kind of reiki for the mind which I don't mind at all nor care if this is not politically correct
in my dreams,I elect the law stands silent to one side so I can ride the currents of the night that flow in cities of delight.

I wake to drizzle,one more grizzle of the day in which I get up out of bed but should really stay and replay Istanbul once more.
In the palm of my left hand I find a pearl (which is not good) a memento of the Eastern Hollywood
tonight, I'll have to go back there and find the girl who shared this treasure and has stolen at her leisure
my heart away.