Dreams
"It is a sad man indeed who understands his dreams."
If ere the rack of clickity clack should ever clutter down,
And moisten reams of clapboard streams then I shall surely drown.
For hammered tops and candle shops stand round me to the end,
And wear the vest of velvet test hoping life to now transcend.
Oh wind the widdle of the hot pot's spittle with noted truthful verse,
Become aware that the grey March hare has been made into a purse.
Choose the rune then check the tune oh champion of charlatans,
Drape the shrapneled caskets dappled the evening sunlight now attends,
We'll sing a song and sail along until the breeze of time shall die,
Then drop the sails and walk the trails that make our mothers cry.
Now you will see the part of me that none other has ever it seems,
The broken parts and shattered hearts that come out in my dreams.
Traveler brave do not try to save just stay here by my side,
And hold my hand and understand that I need you I confide.
Fore ere the rack of clickity clack should ever clutter down,
And moisten reams of clapboard streams then I shall surely drown.
By Tony Lane
for the A Poem Please Contest
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