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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

Beneath, a
s close as my dreams are when

Locked in y
our arms, when the nights are

Too short, a
nd far too soon the dawn.


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.

© Joseph G Dawson

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