Languid, the dream
As it trickles away, liquid
So callously etched
On paper in stony silence

Further, the dream
Veiled by flesh or fancy, broken
Only by thought yet
The heart deceiveth, as always

Precious, the dream
Satin-wrapped with prudence, given
So generously
To foolishly unwilling hands

Surreal, the dream
Gossamer threads twining, comfort
Descending gently
Onto startled imaginings