Dream
My mind dances
tip-toeing from lily-pad to lily-pad
a toad in search of some fresh lassie
whose lips are ripe for kissing
the brisk morning breeze pulses through my veins
sharpens each sense to pin-point acuity
and brings forth that certain clarity
that comes only just before dying
I fear waking
yet i fear my sleepiness all the more
in waking i have only to face my singular dullness
in falling i must stand before your Loch Ness eyes.
Yet for all there are you find no faults in me
whether your vision is too skewed,
the fractured prism that is your world
or my own eyes are the worse
for all my inspection of them?
Time will tell
but in the meantime
let me use this morning haze
to promise
You are in fact, an Angel.