I dreamt of you last night and again this morning
In slumber’s sleep and early waking hours,
I lay with you in darkness through till dawning
And pondered love as deeply held as ours.
My dreams are full of wonder at all loving
How gifted we may be when it enfolds.
I treasure them, eyes closed, then on opening
And expose heart to all my love beholds.
There’s magic in my dreams of love unfolding
And passion in my soul for who you are.
I whisper into ether, song rejoicing
You lead me, fill me, guide me, northern star.
Should dreams enhance all hours alert and watching,
Perfecting every moment to arouse
Splendour in the passion we are holding,
Eyes open always, never more to drowse.
Should life supplant all hopes of dreamers’ weaving
And build a barrier to all our plans,
I’ll close my eyes forever, hold fast to my perceiving
Of who we are in dreams, simply woman and one man.
In life we walk a path so often treading,
In dreams’ inertia fantasies unfold,
Collide in dreams, inhibitions shedding.
Come my love, in dreams, let’s both be bold.
Meet me in my dreams till eternity is ending,
In heavens purest realm I’ll find you, by and by,
I’ll know your spirit’s call so sweetly yearning
For miracles of love within mind’s eye.
This is super smooth reading. Great job.
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Thank you. I seem to be spending half my sleep dreaming poems. I’m shattered! 😉 x
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Don’t worry, you’ll forget about it after a coffee and be back to your normal self.
Whoever you are?
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That’s me after three coffees. Might be better just to move my butt and get on with the day. Whoever I am on here seems to be getting in the way of normal life. Better go and see if someone downstairs recognises me. 😉 x
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What if they don’t !!!!! 😁
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Don’t worry! I have a cunning plan to log back on again and find myself here. Have to start somewhere in the discovery.
Chances are they’ll know fine who I am and start demanding I clash the pan for a late breakfast/early lunch. Buggers! 🙂 x
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Are you sure you haven’t woken up in an eighteenth century workhouse?
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It’s all good. Just checked out the workhouse and they’re engrossed in ‘The Grinch’. Hubby too. Poor bugger!
And your ‘Who am I?’ struck me stirring my fresh coffee. Poem on the way! Ta! Credit where it’s due. 🙂 x
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I’m your muse. I’ve often amused but never mused.
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First time for everything. 🙂 x
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With memories like ours there’s never a second time, only ever firsts.
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Well your first ‘muse for me’ is done. Before I forget.
I really should be getting back to that workhouse but dreams and writing keep getting in the way.
This is the 21st century, right? 😉 x
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It is
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Good ‘cos I’ve forgotten most of the 20th. 🙂 x
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