Monday, January 23, 2006

I CLIMBED A TREE TO FIND A DREAM

Last night as I sweltered in oppressive heat
I rested many hours on that couch in the lounge
I was restless and niggerly
Upstairs the heat was melting the curtains
My dog lay panting at the open front door

I must have slept,I don't remember
I seemed to float or fly or be transcended
To the top of a Faraway Land
I seemed to stumble from a large tree trunk
Into a soft white floor of cloud like carpet

All was white and pink and blue with tinges of grey as well.
A house stood there doors open wide
a mat said "'Welcome come inside"
I walked right in as I could feel the breeze
It seemed to follow me around,it held my hand
it caressed my brow it blew the sleep from my tired eyes

A man walked foward with a face so round ,his shirt had an emblem ...not loud or harsh just the face of a moon
He bade me come in to where it was cool
Commenting on weather he had heard about
" Down There"
I knew what he meant ,I agreed with his aims
To give shelter to those who feel so worn out
To give them a space to breath in fresh air
No charge did he say...Now that's a rare one

So that night and next day I spent in a haven at the top of the tree in that Faraway Land
I looked for the children
Jo,Fanny and what's her name
I didn,t see Mother,
She was most likley at home
cooking scones for their tea as she usually does
Come hail or come shine Mothers always are there
Just when you need them ,never despair.

I shall not wake from this dream
as I feel so relaxed
A visit to earth is not in my plans
I shall stay for awhile and meet others I
know ..from the reading of Enid's book on the
Folks of that Faraway Land....

Lois (Muse of the Sea) 23.1.06

3 Comments:

At 2:25 PM, Blogger Janie Hart said...

That's lovely Lois. Dreams and sleep certainly are an escape from the world and from the realm of consciousness.

A beautiful verse.

Janie

 
At 1:56 PM, Blogger le Enchanteur said...

What an enchanting piece Lois. With you and Jan giving us such fresh insights into the Faraway Tree the people who get royalties from Blyton's sales will be rubbing their hands together gleefully.

 
At 12:44 AM, Blogger rodmaxc said...

Muse by the sea ilove the poems: i know Port Melbourne from my mother Rhoda; one of your cousins.

 

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