A Night of Dreams

I sit here at two in the morning with pencil in hand for the poem I am penning. The lights are low save the one on my desk. In the ashtray a cigarette is burning. Gentle spring breezes blow cool but not cold wafting scents of a lawn freshly mowed. The sheers at the french doors billow and dance as the wind puffs and blows. In the background the music softly plays, cascades and flows. A clarinet, violin, french horn, and now an oboe fill my ears as the fire in the fire place burns low. Smells of the cookies I baked nearly an hour ago still linger and mingle in and about each nook of the room. The Jack Russel at my feet lightly snores as the cat stretches and circles for a nap on the hearth floor. For my public, what shall I write for them? What is in store? Then Bam a book falls to the floor and I am jolted from my nap of dreams. You see nothing is always quite what it seems !! This poem is part of a series including Sunset Reverie, An Evening by The Lake, Days End, On Comes The Night and Tiny White Canoe