Uncle Tree's House

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Though dreams do come, they always pass

There are no curtain calls at last

My soul must surely understand

Why ends meet up in Wonderland

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I must have slept away the night

My brain still throbbing in delight

With recollections blur and dim

And I don’t see the likes of him

.

An Elder tree had sheltered me

I thanked him very graciously

Methinks he knows why men grow small

Why life grows short, whilst tales grow tall

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In retrospect, I do reflect

It was a case of self neglect

My daily prayer, my daily grind

A rock a day, I’d had in mind

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Then slowly it came back to me

I had to jog my memory

The words he read, the things I said

Fell into place inside my head

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‘Twas then I thought to check and see

If I still had my piece with me

The piece of gold I keep in tow

That brings me luck where’er I go

.

The pouch hung empty on my belt

You can’t imagine how I felt

The trickster played me, this I knew

I had to hope that dreams come true

.

Find out in The Finale, Part 4

Coming soon…

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This entry was posted on March 8, 2009 at 11:12 pm and is filed under Entertainment, poetry with tags dreams, Elder, gold, Irish, luck, soul, tricks. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.