Your Thought Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

And now we dream.
Like bits of foam,
small tufts float by
borne by a friendly breeze.
And meet at the horizon
where tall trees may touch
while idle, cirrus clouds.
Small porkers ride the wind
and roses grow to shade the sun,
a thousand fishes dripping wet
parade the local mall,
where God and twenty angels dine
on submarines and cherry coke.
Cold rain now rises from the ground
and takes the clay to pave the Milky Way,
we dream the night away,
we stir and fidget endlessly
and wake, moist hands still clasped,
there is no sound but we can hear
the mystery, it sings the song
of the impossible sweet dream.

We must not listen though,
while steady beats inside our drum
can reassure the mind,
we soon must talk and touch.
And love, it is not blind.