Through the prism of dreams
A love letter I found that was tucked
In the sand, as soon as I saw it I
Could tell by the hand, ‘twas someone
I knew, a girl I admired, it was written
To me, well now, there’s a surprise.
Through the prism of dreams I read
All that she wrote, she missed me she
Said and hoped I’d soon be home, she
Said she’d be waiting, her heart full
Of love, and if I felt the same we could
Marry at once.
Through the prism of dreams I prayed
For a pen, some Basildon Bond, a postman
As well, and there in a flash, a smart
French secretaire, set up on the beach
With an inkwell and chair.
I wrote that I need you, my heart aches
To be, as close as this pen to the paper
Through the prism of dreams my letter
Took wing, but it didn’t arrive that’s
The thing with a dream, pretence is
An art form a poet may weave, making
Fantasy real for a short time at least.
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