Dreamers Haze

Tales of old,

Blossom like roses in the rain,

Cheerfully bold,

Yet rarely worth the strain.

 

As I sit,

Watching the snowfall beckoning,

Such wit,

I recall in the days of your heckling.

 

And reminisces,

Of bygone day filled with such wonder,

One misses,

The stories you spoke with such hunger.

 

Exotic places,

You painted with such delight,

On what bases,

Did your heart take flight?

 

Softly you spoke,

And retrieved your youthful telling,

Light-headedly soaked,

With dreams of knights a dragon felling.

 

Tales of old,

You would read by the hour,

Cheerfully bold,

Enthroned in your ivory tower.

 

To contemplate,

All the wrongs of the world,

And circulate,

Notions of gallantry these tales unfurled.

 

Lost in labyrinths,

You would march your banner,

Placing upon plinths,

The inner honour of secret valour.

 

Morals you respected,

Closeted form the sun you would seek,

 Scripts dejected,

From modern nations social mystique.

 

Learning from time,

The true fantasy of the heart,

In bard rhyme,

You stumbled upon your lark.

 

In fanciful learning,

You did differ from all,

Your heart yearning,

That your spirit should never fall.

 

Tales of old,

Trace my wish for you,

Cheerfully bold,

I recall in your eyes an extraordinary view.

 

Tenderly fading,

Sands of time steal away that vigour,

My mind raiding,

To find you still in the mirror.

 

Reviews

[Legion]

It is always hidden in the back somewhere waiting to escape the confines of reality. Well done. And you said "plinth". How cool is that? ;)

[An owl on the moon]

This is so beautifully done, drifting over wondrous sands of time and place... carrying us through myths and legends and life in magical worlds. What a wondrous, lifting, reflective work...