There seemed so much to darn with the needle of sight
Through the bodkin pierced holes shone the eyes of the night
And no matter the time or the intricate rhyme,
There was so much to sew and so little to write
Yet the clouds were stitched pillows strewn over the bed
And their mist lace embroidered the dreams of the dead,
All those perished remembrances carefully laid
In his old cardboard box before any can fade.


Then the child clapped his hands and he shivered the stars
So they shone like the keys to a prisoner’s bars,
And the music they played was so silver serene
Like a grace painted wish in a wooden bridge scene,
Then the child lit the lamp at the foot of the stair
And it lit up the shadows that he used to share,
As he looked up the stair well, he yawned in his rain
And he snuffed out the light and crept upstairs again.


Then he slept like a galleon becalmed on the seas
And he opened his dream cage with one of it’s keys,
He pushed the door open and drifted away
Like a single silk cloud at the end of a day,
For his dreams kept him safe and secure in himself
No longer a lonely closed book on a shelf,
But a spirit at peace in his heaven sent calm
And the star in his pocket was his lucky charm.


Within his dreamscape garden nothing grows without a smile
For sadness curls into a ball and snoozes for a while,
And shaped within his innocence, he bid himself goodbye
His time was growing short again, he knew he soon must fly,
He had to go back down the stairs to stand back in the shade
A lantern can’t illuminate the scars that will not fade,
Then he took out his star key again, and held it to his breast
Though some things gave him hurt and pain, with others he was blessed…