This book tells but half my worldThe other half no one can read:
On tall white peaks, in deep pine groves
Sleep brings dancing elves on a moonlit beach .
I wish you could come in for while and share
The colourful swirling worlds I've known.
But this book will only take you halfway there
The last few steps in Dreamland we take alone.
It's been a little hard putting thoughts into prose these few days. Have only been posting verse. Could be the work frenzy, or the lack of a nice long stretch of hours, or maybe it's just the sense that things are hard to reduce into paragraphs some times. Once again, I am glad for poetry and pictures.
