A Summer's Dream That We Have All Spent Dreaming Poem by James McLain

I'd rather wait
than tell you all about the coming of your dreams.
That few could tell or else
they would thus tell.
Of super highways in the mind
that wind upon them selves.

Everybody has a place
none go without the sight.
And no one's child
is left including those without the will.

If death appeared
none would appeal as approached.
Where each intersection
in the world,
each racing thought prevailed.

To kiss the lips of each fair girl I saw.
And give them
what I owe that you can't have.

The only death I know at rest
and you the will to be.
I see you in the daily news,
and could not save you all when you I found.