The Makings of a Dream
I rememberAnd perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Appearing as ephemeral as a ghost
You came to me
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
and perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Appearing to me younger
As I too appeared a child
Rambling on the way that children do
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Over the river and through the woods
To your house we go
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Things were different
Old becoming new
As time passed just as you were passing
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Speeding down this long and lonesome highway
The company you keep a growing child
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
It seems the time we spend
Though years
Is cut rather short
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Tracing the creases in your face
Sad yet happy eyes locked with my own
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Through all the years spent with you
In yet the space of a dream
Two words are all I remember you speaking
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
You disappear with the abruptness of a phantasm
With your two words lodged in my sleepy mind
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
Words that linger upon my awakening
And years after your passing
"Don't cry"
In that dimension in my brain
That only appears in moments of repose
I remember
And perhaps the void of memory
Is what makes me dream
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