2so real, so close, that it would seem
not a fantasy, but touchable,
physical, tangible.
Vivid vision of the night,
World of Right and Flight and Light,
Whirl till dawn comes, when the eye
meets the red-tinged blue of sky.
Reach into darkness, try to hold,
but fingers close on mist too cold.
Tears come as remembrance flees
in spite of all the earnest pleas.
Just a dream, a lucid dream,
so real, so close, that it would seem
that memory wishes to deceive,
leaves the dreamer alone to grieve.