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I dream of fields and wheat and cows, sheep and hounds, country light and sounds holding me in. But it's only a dream, one that haunts my weary eyes and hides behind my eyelids.
Falling leaves and burning trees, early nights and late mornings.
Its the present and not the future, perhaps the past and the forever that goes beyond that.
Dreams are simple things, things that flow out of my open fingers and onto the key board.
But right now, they buzz about my skull and make my bones ache.
Soon I will sleep and more dreams will come and taint my existence.

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Maureen

October 2012

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