On The Edge Of The Etheric Poem by Michael WheelerWyatt

Making dragons from the clouds as they float above our beds
The shimmering reflection from the pool on the parasols shading our heads
Earned laziness replaces the daily grind
Distant memories of a noisy life left far behind
The clock strikes two on a distant hill
The gentle breeze moves the sails on a distant mill

On the edge of the etheric
Is it real or just a dream?
On the edge of the etheric
Takes me away into my dreams

Unusual bugs – do they sting we ask? How many lengths - today’s dreary task?
Come and get us - the waters so fine. Cool off over here – the cloudless sky is so sublime
The Sun goes down over the fields of hay
No tears though on this ending day
The light-headed feeling from the bottled vine
Reminds us tomorrow that the sun will always shine

On the edge of the etheric
Is it real or just a dream?
On the edge of the etheric
Takes us away into our dreams

Away from these screams into all our dreams
Our dreams our dreams
On the edge of the etheric
Our Dreams Our Dreams