Although sleep, for some, is a slice of death,
A necessity fracturing their day;
Every human having drawn a breath,
Needs to close their eyes, and to drift away.
Go where slumber allows us all to stand,
To a place where little is as it seems:
We walk crimson clouds and run silver sand;
We surf with whales on an ocean of dreams.
We see stars in a distant childhood sky,
Recalling the wishes we planted there;
Remembering what, but not always why,
Leaving our memories everywhere.
Dreams introduce us to all we desire,
And those dreams are where memories retire.
Mick McKellar
February 2015
Why do I need to sleep? Why must I dream of days long past, or of things yet to be? And, when I forget, where do my memories go? I had a dream about it...
Mick
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