Little Dreams Poem by Paul Reed

What has the soul to thrive upon?
When days become mere intervals
Between gathering nights
When dreams are just the closing of eyes
Until the gloomy morning;

What feeds the beating heart to flutter?
And nurture it's naive promptings
To be up and running
With sheer joy just to be alive
Until exhaustion beckons our rest;

I will suffer patiently
And I will dream my little dreams
With bedtime books,
Hearty meals and warm clothes,
Comforting thoughts and wishes
Unitl spring bids me to start again.