World of fancies
i am buried in folds of sleep,
i sigh; the bed is so warm and deep!
i could sleep till past the noon,
but that would be lazy, and soon,
i would waste away from soft repose,
yes, give me work, poetry or prose.
i make up this rhyme while half asleep,
yet find it long enough in words to steep,
like tea in its pot till fine.
so i would rather spend my time.
Dreams! how mysterious yet great,
they take me to lands i love or hate.
memories, snippets of time long past,
or even those i hope yet to last.
in one i ran through darkened woods,
in another i saw a friend smile at me,
but when closer i saw, no, it was not he.
sleep will take me to lands unknown,
places in waking i could never go.
i wonder why they come in mind,
but then cannot go to these lands i find.
but it is pleasant to lie in warm, sweet rest,
until day comes, and waking wrests
your sleepy fancies from you.
this i know will always come true.
that if i have dreams sweet or of pain,
i will always awake again,
so never fear to dream.