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A poem of a dream
I dreamt I met Cyrano de Bergerac up close
I tried to look away from his large nose
Of course, he caught my glimpse almost a stare
My heart said beware, beware
He was as I would think
A man who knows within a blink
That I would never cause him pain
And so, I would hope he the same
We only spent a minute when
I thought to ask a question then
Would he, I asked, indulge a thought
A thought he said, I hope not for naught
I would ask you great poet with your pen
To write a short verse nine lines or ten
To romance the woman that I adore
Just those few lines nothing more
He agreed and within a flash a pen
Was in his hand and off it flew
The words came quickly as if he knew
Then finished with “my dream, my queen, I do love you.”
— WOLRAD
(A poem from the Wolrad collection #298)
