The Quickening Poem by Maurice Rowlands

I should have known it was a dream
When the hands of that dusty old clock
Were moving too fast
Spinning out of control

My Love is sleeping beside me
Snoring in rhythmic melody
English summer rain
Pattering on my window
In Wales
Drifting over to remind me of my homeland

I should have known it was a dream
When the honeysuckle-pink sweet wine
In that poisoned chalice
Touched my lips
Cloak and dagger
And skeletal hands surrounding me
Moving too fast
Spinning out of control

My Love is stirring
The rain has stopped
The silence is deafening
I lay my head down on soft white cotton
In sleep
Drifting away and reminding me of my homeland

I should have known it was a dream
When I saw your fear stricken young face
In World War II
The bomber planes above your head
Moving too fast
Spinning out of control

Sleep now, like me
Brave soldier
Brave Grandfather
In dreams
Drifting away and reminding you of your homeland