Poem:

I woke up one morning;

it was dark and hazy;

the sky enveloped

with clouds on clouds.

I wasn’t inclined

to get out of bed;

my spirit invaded

by  shrouds on shrouds.

Soon, I heard

claps of thunder;

within minutes the rain

came pelting down.

‘T was Sunday morning;

not much to do,

except visit a popular,

quaint, old town.

Later, that day.

in an hour or so,

the rain abated;

the sun appeared;

The sky rid of the

menacing clouds,

I felt secured with

nothing feared.

I remembered suddenly

a dream I saw

in which I couldn’t

find my car;

‘t was parked in a quiet,

deadend street,

not near where I lived,

nor yet too far.

I figured, ‘t was just

an empty dream,

unrealistic, surely untrue –

nothing so different – -

nothing so new.

I was ready to drive to

that old, quaint town;

but, lo and behold,

my car wasn’t there;

I couldn’t locate it

anywhere,

the moral being this:

Dream that we all

do sometimes see

may yet be true

and fancy-free.

as true can be.