If dreams were tangible, dear princess, I'd give you mine
this dream where unfading echoes never die
Back a long, grassy lane, a house once white, now greying with time
set against the ***** of verdant hill, and crowded amongst a hundred soughing pines
Nearby a sundappled wood with tranquil creek and mossy stones
Ferns tall as your waist and creamy mushrooms
Beyond stretch clover scented pasture haunted by purplish dusk and
ghosts of gurnsey calves with solemn eyes
To bring a smile to your lovely face and a song to your heart.
Above a garret where silvery moonbeams dance
scented by old mothballs and books from bygone days
their yellowed pages mildewed and musty with age
Perhaps some tear stained journal from yesteryears
penned by long dead poetess, kindred spirit facing hardships like our own
listening to this same ancient wind sweeping the trees, gaunt branches scratching windowpanes as souls forlorn
yes, I would give you all this, sweet princess, if wishes had wings
just to bring a smile to your lovely face
this dream where unfading echoes never die
© Hilda August 13, 2014 Written for my dear daughter Marian who has felt rather sad and tired tonight