there is a valley
where I hid my dream
even now it waits
beside a stream
the woods are dark
the sky is turning black
it looks as though
I really should turn back
but am I dreaming now
or is this real
I may confuse the facts
with what I feel
perhaps a memory
waits and is concealed
and burns within my brain
with its appeal
but I am never lost
if I can believe
the hush of whispered
answers I receive
and though I may be
dreaming as I roam
I still can see the valley
of my home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem