How life is but a dream 

Yet not all good dreamers are we

What things macabre dark and grisly do we in dreams see

There cuts through the fabric of rational a panic a madness

That grotesquely alters each placid dream as it poisons the waters of the lovely stream

A good dreamer am I dropping  flowers upon the flowing waters 

Lovely and serene all the while holding back a primeval scream

What pretty things the lucid currents bring a bouquet of roses loosed from it’s bow a

Pretty dress satiny pink two white slippers as if dancing with an aire of sensuality    

Oh sweet sensuality what becomes of dreams becomes of thee 

What elements are these that make the dream sweet beyond belief or so awful

And terrifying that the soul therein none may redeem

How life is but a dream the silken touch of a lovers embrace the reflection 

Of Her face frames by her pretty hair upon the moonlit rivers stream a midst the mist 

And fog that clings to the body like chilled steam

Beauty romance desire elements that form the ideal

Love passion devotion elements lending light and color to the scene

Fear jealously and insecurity align with drama to convene 

How when in the spell of the dream do the reflections of the 

Mind seem so tangible and real

What pretty sensual lips pursed to nine as the moon settles 

Over The blue and green

Her body with its lithe and grace floats 

Lifeless upon the stream the blood upon the rocks

The blood upon her hands just will not come clean

Alas this is but fantasy yet why each night do I find that

I wish to rejoin her and that last kiss finally come to seal

Daniel RODRIGUEZ  jr 2012