When do thoughts drip from our head
Like rain drops falling through a hole
In a broken umbrella
I do not remember being small
Though I remember the feeling of being afraid
Now in my dreams I am grown
Exploring possibilites
Scaling towers and trees
For many years I was unconscious
Not asleep
And my head was always troubled
And black
Hardly any rest or hope
No room to play or find flowers
Sometimes now I daydream
Think about things to come
Adventures to take
Skies to look at
Clouds to count
Birds to watch fleeing the bare branches
Migrating to the building opposite
Cawing and singing
Waiting for spring to come
And chicks to arrive
We like the freshness of day
The warmth of night
Perhaps now we are more prepared to remember
But we choose not to
Why open a box full of pain
When instead we could create
A box full of pleasure
With a clearer head we can summon up
Pretty dreams
Colours
Sights
Sounds
No more falling off pavements and jerking awake
Or that smell that has followed us for years
Memories and dreams
Are like colours on a mixing board
Waiting to be painted into something new
We will take the paintbrush in our hand
And be the painter, the dreamer, the person
Who draws their own past, present, future
And a wonderful world of imagination and possibility
The safety of limitless dreams.
