A Dream At Noon

Of what shall it be told? This midday dream, That glides to place on hold; And bodies forth its form like a stream And yet in this film, the twelve obstacles Could not hold When in strength Hercules triumph But not on a platter of gold I see, and though through a glass Thrilling scenes That then make crass Like two days between twins Every hour encapsulates terror But against all odds awoke I Running to behold me in a mirror Whether or not I did cry