Just For The Hell Of It, A Poetry Thread

A Dream fit for a Queen

Chapter 1


Last night I dreamed of rolling hills,
A lush Island far away.
I met, I swear, a golden hare,
Who thought that dance was play.

He teased, tickled and ran about,
He twisted with his mirth.
We jumped and twirled and flew away,
Floating above the earth.

The wrap I wore, were strangers robes,
The mind was not my own.
We talked of strings, clocks and kings,
We found a golden throne.

Certain of anonymity,
We laughed and danced and sang,
We found the meaning of life itself.
We understood the rain.

But time did touch the gentle slopes,
And sleep did find us there.
An enchanting mist, curled like a fist,
There in the mighty chair.

A dream with sleep, touched my eyes,
A rest that stirred the soul.
But dreams, it seems, can hide some things,
The heart don't want to know.

Pulled I was, from one dream,
Back into another,
The hare, it seems, had other things,
On which he had to suffer.

Alone, I was, or so I thought,
Cried and looked about,
I searched and watched and looked again,
And finally called out.

A silent dream stirred in the breeze.
Mist cleared the gentle wood.
The birds called back, I could not react,
For there a hunter stood.

A golden collar in his hand,
Brandy in his belt.
He stood like age, with eyes of rage,
And asked me how I felt?

I scolded him for startling me.
And told him to go away.
He stood and stared, like I was scared,
And secretly I prayed.

His eye did probe my stranger’s robes,
His gentle face was fair.
It broke into a drunken smile,
Leaving him a jolly air.

His eyes, indeed, filled with a need.
He showed a merry wit.
"You little lass, don't be an ass,
"How soon you do forget!"

"We talked of strings, clocks and kings."
"Though I'm not the king of Rome,"
"This land is mine, is it so divine,
"That you would take my throne?"

The golden collar became a crown.
He threw it at my feet.
"I must confess, it is a test,
"Tis the conquer that is sweet."

I turned and ran down rolling slopes,
Took to the fields in flight.
Scared to death, and out of breath,
I tried to calm my fright.

There I found an odd vortex,
A fairy ring of stone.
And there again, the hare, my friend,
Said he would guide me home.

He sat with me inside myself,
And told me to achieve,
A higher truth about myself,
I need only too believe.

The circle turned, slow at first,
Then faster at my bidding.
The more belief, the more relief.
That rabbit was not kidding.

He danced, then jumped, into a light,
I swear, I never saw
A glowing being, with misty seams,
Was he ever there at all?

I walked myself into that light,
Returned to a troubled sleep.
I awoke and swear I choked,
A crown lay at my feet.


CHRISTY COLE