My Dream

My dream is like a softness on the air.
Breeze rustled leaves whisper my ear
Telling many tales.
Softly steal the presence of the mind.
Lead avenues of myth and magic still there
All in this modern world,
Where interpretations given to the niggling mind
Not to the dark lamp-post leaning man
Still dreaming of the stars.
Boldly linking with their winking stare.
It all continues away from people talking
Talking all the time.
Tele-mentored, earning through their words.
Lips move and say and say and say.
Seem only know by labels what they say.

My dream is like a knowledge on the air
And everyone I ever knew is there.

Published on Openwriting.com under the name Jackie Mallinson