Dreamer Poem by John Rickell

Never a noisy place,
seems to sleep all day,
does it dream, the trees,
their fantastic forms,
all illusion, how do
I enter such a place?
Many shapes to challenge
my imagination, too
must dream, enter the mind
nature wrought, which
began this never-land
I can understand only
in the fog of make believe.
Believe I must, yet
truth can be hard to bare,
to dream each day
in such a place is all I ask,
why I call each day
in thorn-proof green,
breathless, silent disbelief.