Dream's World

The dreams come along, hand in hand. Wait for the dreamer to come again. Watch as the grass is blown and the leaves made fall, And the dead memories collect at my feet. Once in every little while the dreamers would come again. Now just one is left, For there are no others with the compassion and imagination to dream For the world has stopped turning, For the fire keeps on burning in their souls hotter now than ever before. But this one is a little boy who will pick up anything. Any dream that comes his way, he will dream it again. Now he’s an old man and there’s just one dream left. He goes to his world, Dream’s World, every night to dream. He’s nearly there, but he falls down, weary and bleeding. Will nobody help the poor old man? Suddenly he sees a blood red stream, and next to it lies a bottle of purple potion. He crawls over to drink this concoction, his last hope. He lifts the bottle to his lips to take a sip, and the last dream calls out in warning. But it’s too late for Dream, the last dreamer, It’s too late for a happy ending, he already drank the poison. Now the last dream is stuck forever, no dreamers will ever come again. There’s no story left to tell so I guess it’s safe to say that this is the end.