The Dream Catcher's Story

A ring torn free
from Sorrow’s litter
sings this song as
he remembers:

“Green balloon, O
plead no more!
The dormant smell
of dreams succumbs.

Grasp the divine
my floating cart!
And pray for the
man of lost hope.

But heed my whisper
and hold still!
A cello’s voice
sings a portent signal.”

Though penitent,
the ring now shows
his blatant gem
burst into gold.

Picture as the
clock strikes three
this ring takes off,
complete and free.

Now he rests on
the flatterer’s finger.
Long gone the days
of dream’s surrender.

But for my blessing he
leaves a twinkle dreaming
in my eyes.