My Dream

I moved into the country to write and be alone.
I came upon a patch of woods not too far from home.
These woods somehow had drawn me, so I cautiously began
my walk into the entrance where a stream of water ran.

Amazed when I had entered and looked around to see;
It all had changed when I came in, just as suddenly.
I stood among these huge oak trees of green and blue pastel.
If what I saw was real to me, or dream, I could not tell.

The rain I thought was falling, wasn’t rain at all;
A shower of glimmering brightness only in this forest, tall.
I heard some music playing. . .the harp, the flute and bells
that played throughout the shimmering trees of green and blue pastels.

The stream of water that had flowed beside my country home,
came into this land of dreams where I began to roam.
Jewels were scattered everywhere of rubies and of gold.
And many things I saw are still a mystery, foretold.

I trailed its steady guidance to a little girl that played
within a flower garden, close beside her feet she laid
the harp, the flute and then the bells and bid me near, to stay.
She sang to me a melody of why I came that day.

Suddenly she disappeared while over by the trees
a unicorn came into view and walked the stream with me.
No words were ever spoken as she walked with strength and grace.
I wondered how she came to be in this strange and beautiful place.

She was to me, familiar when I looked into her eyes.
She had something that I wanted. . .something I had always tried.
A surety and kindness yet a peace not understood
as she ran with speed and not a care into the pastel wood.

And as I watched her fade away into the forest trees,
I realized what I saw in her was who I used to be.

Again among the garden the little girl appeared,
and from the melody she played, had bid me ever near.
While I sat beside her listening to her melody,
I understood the meaning of the song she played for me.

I smiled and slowly left her and I walked the crystal stream
of purest gold and rubies, to the entrance of my dream.
And when I cleared the forest, I looked, then turned away
as she spoke to me of dreams to come from her garden on that day.

The patch of woods then vanished to its place of long ago.
A place I will remember toward a future I will know.

Now and then I’ll take a stroll along the crystal stream,
and think of a her, the unicorn. . . .

Of myself, within my dream.

© Cheryl Taul
December 28, 1993