In My Vibrant Dream
*Past silver groves of willows weeping near a crystal stream,
I move with an excitement flowing in my vibrant dream.
Those colors that I take for granted in the concrete world
shine brilliantly like buds of roses that have come unfurled.
Ahead there is a field of daisies - wild yellow in bloom.
I’m feeling golden; such enchantment whisks away all gloom.
Atop a hill as bright a green as Ireland’s emerald isle -
as day’s last rays of sun shine down - is where I’ll stay a while.
Inside my dream appears white parchment; in my hand a quill!
Across the sky there splashes splendor; all the earth grows still.
A white swan’s feather dips into a hue of cobalt blue.
As sky bursts crimson, I am painting all this dream for you!
*Past silver groves of willows weeping
is a line I borrowed from Heather Ober's "Into the Gloaming"
For Richard Lamoureux's Pick a Line Any Line Poetry Contest
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