What Dreams May Come

Every blade of grass,

Beneath her tiny feet,

Is better for her step,

So softy boho sweet.

Her gaze, her touch, her voice,

Skin smooth upon her face,

Tangles of care-free hair waving,

My subtle maenad out of place.

Dance with me awhile and talk,

Tell me what I want to hear,

Hold my hand, and then command,

My heart will so endear.

But that we exist in the depths of space,

Before the dubious daybreak,

I have this dream so often now,

That I am a fool to wake,