Wide eyed the dreamer,
He's not asleep.
Yet he is dreaming,
Of the briney deep.
The thoughts so pure,
run through his head,
He needs not lie,
On his billowy bed.
Phantoms so wispy,
Float through his brain,
Like sparrows flying,
Through misty rain.
The dreamer sees shadows,
Of all shapes and hues,
Of reds and of purple,
Of violets and blues.
He's a dreamer of dreams,
That live in the day.
He dreams his dreams,
As he lays on the hay.
The dreamers world,
So perfect you see,
Lives in his mind,
And sets his soul free.
No greed no malice,
No avarice need call.
No pride as they say,
Comes before a fall.
Behold the dreamer,
As he counts the dreams.
He has of mountains,
And chrystal clear streams.
The dreamer of castles,
And far away lands,
Lays on a beach,
With sugar white sands.
Wherever he is,
His dreams make him smile.
The face of the dreamer,
Is an innocent child.
5/24/03 Alton Texas
Juan we all are deamers and I think you have described it very well in this poem. All the dreams you cover here are the same as we dream in real life. A really great piece of work and a super thumbs up to you. A 10 my friend. Lynn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is one of the best poems i have read this year! you had me hooked till the end! it's not a short poem, but i wanted it to go on n on - a rare effect! excellent!