Inventing Other Ways Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Inventing other ways
The night is not a flame,
The longing for the days
Shall remain in the same;
And all the heart fell
Complicated and true,
It's hanging on a spell
And what is up to you.

The dreams that not are
To reach or build up,
For they are wide too far
And hard to develop;
With starry glistening on
And all that is not real,
Through rays and dark aeon
You can not hold just feel.

Inventing from the rainbows
Is like holding to gold,
That for a breath it glows
Though harder it's to hold;
Like it is with tomorrow
That may not come to be,
For we with fancy borrow
What we might hope to see.