Lucid

Tonight, I’ll dream of love and bliss

Although I’ve none to claim

I’ll open up to fruitless hope

And harvest just the same

 

I’ll dream a baseless sort of joy,

And build a homestead there

With flowerbeds and greenest grass

And clearest, warmest air

 

Like drawings sketched in children’s books

So shall my dream house be

Perfection pulled from preschool’s page

For just my mind to see

 

No drooping walls, no chipping paint,

No overgrowing lawn

It’s flawless lines with endless sun,

And happiness is drawn

 

I’ll sleep inside that world tonight

I’ll wrap myself within

But dare not hope this dream could be

Reality again