Page 20 - 1986

16
The Stuff Dreams Are Made of
0 woe to winter's darkest breath
A sleep of fools , a dream of death
To lull towards forgotten fears Reborn beneath the crust of years
A child's bed horror in midst of night Awake with memory of fright
At once forgotten with sheepish laugh Dispell with ancient adult craft
The lingering terror as closet door Moves soundlessly across the floor
To hide the stuff dreams are made of
0 woe to springtime's thickest fog The hoot of ·awl, a croak of frog
To lull towards forgotten fears Reborn beneath the crust of years Nighttime walking's sudden stop Mind overcome by imagination's crop To look around and then to grin
At oneself -- it's such a childish thingl Unease lingers as one quickens pace Along the pathway's leafy lace
Hiding the stuff dreams are made of
0 woe to summer's thunder rolling Abound with horrors nighttime telling To lull towards forgotten fears Reborn beneath the crust of years Rationale and imagination battle
And then to smile, remember sadly
A fireside tale, that frightened badly That long ago child, as lightning flashes Are accompanied by thunder crashes Then darkness fal ls and all is still
But for slashing rain beating window sill Concealing the slither of the stuff Dreams are made of
0 woe to autumns empty branches
Asway with evil's night advances
To lull towards forgotten fears
Reborn beneath the crust of years
A howling wind with human moans
Taps on windows with wooden bones
As eerie shadows slowly creep
Across the face of a child asleep
That suddenly wakes with sleep filled eyes To an empty room, a dream of lies
Goes back to sleep, wherein to miss A rotting evil 's retreating hiss
And a promise to return
As the stuff dreams are made of.
Nora Black