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.
© David Hopcroft May 2003