Dream maker of the night come catch nocturnal dreams,
Let not
the morning tide wash this new world away.
Hopes of the future
years are bubbling from the streams,
Wash out those darker
fears and let me greet the day.
Childhood fantasies rising from the deepest well,
Laughter
echoes from hidden valleys where I played
Sought, sought and
hid until I heard the pudding bell.
Dream maker paint the faded
picture where ’tis frayed.
Let not this hope from memory be dashed by day,
Turn back the
ticking clock but let me keep the years.
Dream maker let my
picture from the darkness stay;
Now wake from silence all that
has been chained by fears.
Fast, fast the fading night gives way to rising dawn.
Startled
by the cock with an early morning call
Young rabbits bolt for
cover in the golden corn,
Vixens stop their stalking from cover
by the wall.
If I can see such sights and smell the dawn’s new scent,
If I
can hear bleating sheep upon the hillside,
Then touch be the
proof of memory’s deep intent
Or the dream deception beyond the
final stride.
Dream maker find a future of an Otherworld,
Where magic
darkness opens to admit the sun .
Let me perform the play, the
yellowed script uncurled,
Upon some other stage until my time
is come.
I
believe it is important for those of us old enough to remember these
times that we record them for our grandchildren and their children
who may never see or hear these things
