Wakin' Poet by Richard Guimond ©2015
In the cold bleak hours of the morning
Under warm wings of bed sheet sleeping
Voices from dream side softly woke me
Wake up your dream the world need to see
Wake up poet take up you stringed bow
Hunt those dreams that in lay you can show
The dreams lay in broken pieces on a table
Intricate puzzle to put together was I unable
A night of onneric poetic compositions
Was I, at wake, before its impossible restitution
In the shards I could recognized an image
Of The Book of My Dreams, only a single page