The dream’s the thing
My dreams have given me many, many stories and monologues I have routinely failed to write down, but this is the first time I’ve ever been offered a sonnet. I awoke with the first four lines and the close in my head; the rest, I wrote upon waking. (With many apologies to W. Shakespeare.)
My dreams but do betray my waking mind
And seek to offer hope where there is none
So often I have prayed to turn back time
But dash my hopeful dreams, the deed is done.
There is a chance, though very small it be,
That tempest tides reverse their stormy course
And bring your wond’rous mind back home to me
Woe, tides are fickle things with no remorse
For if they turn, and crash your craft ashore
Who knows if truth, so uncovered, can stay
For all my world, you may still find it bores
But as I wake, it’s this I have to say
The beach has rocks, and still we may but fall
Dreams, give me faith. The readiness is all.