Dreamscape
“Imagine,” he said, “the magic of pretending,
whether one is in bed or on a mountaintop.
—quote by poet
The rush of wind,
and hush of chimes, between breaths.
Full sun carries
no tune; it tarries, stimulates
my too pale face.
To sail, to sigh; shells on the beach.
I bury my feet
in crush of waves, deceptive suds.
Flood of feelings;
momentum of time displacement.
Floating, glistening.
My eyes confused, maligning sight.
One thing is true:
the rush of wind, the hush of chimes;
and there is more -
the sun does not play lyre; or flute.
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