I dreamt last night in poetry
with words in vision seen.
The narrator wrote the script
then left for me to read.
The plots constructed on the page
that lay before my eyes
were hard to first associate
without a focused mind.
But once my eyes had opened clear
I found great meaning there.
For on that page, written in peace
was wisdom beyond years
Its picture now, within my mind
a blurry, random whole.
The story that was clearly seen
my mind no longer holds
For time that passed to consciousness
has left memories dry.
Lost visions from the past of night
leave only tears in eyes.
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