For Dream Is a Thing with Laces
For dream is a thing with laces
That embraces the sheath with its linen fingers
And caresses the surface down to the core
Where pleasure perches and is ready to soar.
And the laces mingle with gentle strokes of hope
As the rainbow of colors sprinkles them with gold
Then the fibers of bliss fabricated in the lyre
Come strumming in gratefulness by the heart’s sweet desire.