In time gone by

If Dream had a best friend it'd be the acrid smell that rain leaves - no, hangs - in the air, suspended not by wires and ropes but nagging persistence and a little companion called Hope.

If Dream had a face it'd be nondescript; the kind which gives little away.

If Dream had eyes they would be soulful like dirt, and you could look into them, and at that very moment you look into them you would see into a world of possibilities. They'd just be a vision, in a dark, extensive, elusive experience beneath his eyes.

If Dream had a hobby, it'd be running, so no one could ever catch him (but they'd all keep on chasing).

If Dream had a dream it'd be made up of the things he fears the most, and yet it takes courage to fear.

If Dream had a favourite colour it'd be blue because the sky is the limit - it's just that there's no one to tell us there's nothing up in it.

If Dream had one last day on Earth the planets would all stop spinning and watch with wry smiles on their faces; time will play a fool, and Dream will lend himself to the very air he breathed, slowly carrying him beyond existence.

Fortune's always hiding

No moon is too blue,
and yet no flag too white
You join this late game
of darts and sights.

Gaiety glances are shot

and questions abound

But they're cunningly cerebral

And it's loss that I've found

Words have a curious way

Of reigning themselves in

Absent then, of course, are

The things I truly mean.

To keep another's words

In a time-tested safe,

And to think they keep yours

Takes a measure of faith.

When silence glares at you
with its head in the clouds
You begin to wonder
if thinking's allowed.

(What's worse...)

Happy endings are a problem

We can never mend, for

Whatever happened to

Being happy before we end?