There is the landscape of dreams
pure, simple, beautiful
in it's innocent state of mind,
where pictures play on screen
of thought, while restless
tossing and turning disturbs
not the adventure of night.

The lay of land dictated by my
subconscious thought, each landmark
created within fantasy daze, haze
of dream, world surreal in sleep.

Within this, my deepest of mind,
as the moon watches through slit
of blind, I find, images of color
small picture shows playing, and

replaying, sometimes with horrid
representation of life, though often
a jaunt into sweet lust, felt upon
body through sheer veil of dream.

A landscape seen somewhere in pause
of mind, that saves the pictures
I never see, and paints them upon
my sleeping thoughts.

Dreams that oftimes I cannot
describe, nor keep in mind upon
awaken, shaken I hope to capture
pieces to put together the puzzle
when fog of limbo is past, and the
day has found me pondering the
night spent in places I cannot recall.

This mysterious landscape, does escape
my grasp as word described, so it is
with fingers shamed by lack of recollect
that I offer only this mere peek,
a far off view, of the landscape of

my dreams...

WhiteRose 11/10/02