JUST A DREAM

I gaze at the picture upon the wall,
Then to my dreams I gently fall.
I close my eyes and drift away
To a beautiful place where I long to stay.

I see the meadows, soft and green,
I walk barefoot through a mountain stream,
It must be summer, there’s flowers in bloom
Is it May? or could it be June?

The sweet smell of heather that fills the air,
Such beautiful colours everywhere.
Mountains they seem to touch the sky,
Clusters of pine trees all so high.

Along a winding path I make my way,
To see an old cottage so bright and gay.
Half shaded from an old oak tree,
This is my dream home, but not for me.

For  I open my eyes and gaze at the wall,
From the daydream, which I did fall.
Looking at the picture in front of me,
Realising it was just a fantasy.

By
SHEILA FARRER
© Copyright Reserved 2006

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