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Dreams enchant, excite, evaporate
as camphor sublimates,
like gossamer links flit across…
shimmering as crowns
dewdrops on blades of grass!
As desire to speak dominates
search for receptive ears stretches
like infant’s cry for mother’s response.
Flowers in forest wait for eons
for rare glint in eyes of passers-by.
Life is a song to be sung by you alone
none prompts nor offers orchestra,
yet the show goes on as ordained---
mute voices long for endearing echo
from cold sources coiling coyly.
Dreams are like candyfloss
leaving no trace echo too dissolves!
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