Amidst the roar and tumult of this age
I now and then find time to take my ease
beneath a vine calmed by some gentle breeze
allowing my sweet dreams to take the stage.
I see you there, sweet shining, lovely one.
In verdant groves, receiving eagerly
the gifts I would extend so ardently
both of us wishing never to be done.
Come; tell me that you also dream of me.
Come; tell me that your own dreams mirror mine.
That you await beneath some shaded vine.
In hopes that things we dream are soon to be.
Much pleasure may be found in fantasy.
Yet so much more for dreamers such as we