Dream the dreams that once had tip-toed softly through your sleep
Dream of the immeasurable, so silent and so deep,
Believe in the impossible, yet be prepared to doubt
Your whispers are just dreams of night that haven’t learned to shout.

Believe between your sentences, the reasons why you speak
And also in those timeless things, like kisses on the cheek,
Believe the night’s exquisite silk that slips across your face
To wrap the dreams you need to keep, in fluttering snow white lace.

Savor the scent of midnight green and breathe the forest’s air
So many scents are captivating, and yet none can quite compare,
Soft moonlight on a silent dell still calls in its own way
And even though it is unheard, has still so much to say.

Those things you see behind closed eyes are more than shades of grey
They are more like the echoes coming back from yesterday,
And all you need to do to is catch them softly in your hand
Then as you arise to wakefulness, you’ll surely understand…

Raggedy rainbow had beads in her hair
Every color that you could imagine was there,
Raggedy rainbow was such a nice child
But now and again she could be very wild.

Raggedy rainbow was walking to school
With her beads shining brightly, she felt very cool,
Raggedy rainbow was dreaming again
And tripped on a sunbeam in tumbledown lane.

She heard someone laughing behind the red wall
That bordered the gardens of pixie dust hall,
Then up popped a head full of bright ginger curls
With a mouth busy chewing on peppermint whirls.

It was Raggedy's step-sister Cotton wool Kate
Who was doing her best to make Raggedy late,
But Raggedy Rainbow was nobody's fool
So off they both scampered, past pixie dust pool.

In fairy dell glade, they decided to play
And soon had forgotten the time of the day,
Playing Hop-Scotch with elves in the warm summer sun
Was better than lessons, and so much more fun.

Then hunger was telling them tea time was near
So the elves bid farewell with a smile and a tear,
And as they walked home in the twilight's soft glow
They bumped into their teacher, miss Wintersley-Snow.

She said ' Were you both disappointed to know,
That the school had been closed for the travelling show?'
We just smiled a sick smile, and we went on our way
Truant's not as much fun on a school holiday…

The morning moments sauntered by
And each one bowed its head to me,
Like gulls upon the evening sky
They spiralled upwards endlessly,
Without the need to come back down
They glittered in reflected gold,
Like gems in an immortal crown
That man can never hope to hold.


The seeds of sensitivity
Are more than all the things we see,
And more that everything we know
Moving with such a heavenly flow,
To grow like children in a book
Is all most children really need,
And we all need to take a look
At natures truly wondrous seed.


To give can make us truly glad
When hunger can be satisfied,
To give can make our hearts replete
For every smile makes us complete,
And morning moments drifting free
Are much more than the time we know,
Those seeds of sensitivity
Create the book of heaven’s glow…

When I was a child, and my dreams were of gold
I always believed everything I was told,
My faith was implicit, my innocence pure
And magic existed, of that I was sure.
My old uncle Arthur was always in bed
His twinkling eyes sunken into his head,
He told me his stories of dragons and elves
That lived in the books on his library shelves.

On the table that stood at the foot of his bed
Was an old leather box colored purple and red,
And the lid was embroidered in threads of maroon
With the soft shining face of the man in the moon.
I asked him to show me what rested inside
And he said ' Press the button, and open it wide!',
Then up from the box, with a deep whirring sigh
Rose a magic mechanical gold butterfly.

It fluttered its wings as it gently spun round
Its beauty serene in the absence of sound,
And I was entranced by its magical flight
As it bathed in the flame of the candle's soft light.
As I lay in my bed with my head in a dream
I still could imagine the butterfly's gleam,
So I made up my mind to go back the next day
To watch the gold butterfly flutter and play.

But when I got there, the old house was in gloom
My old uncle Arthur was gone from his room,
And even though mother had tried to explain
I never did see uncle Arthur again.
That night I slept soundly, in dreams of delight
At the dawn I awoke to the morning's first light,
And there on my desk, by the side of my bed
Was an old leather box colored purple and red…