A Fantasy World Or A Dream

A relaxing afternoon with time on my hands,

After a busy weekend spent with loved ones,

Two hours of freedom to do as I so please,

I choose to open the door to see what comes.

***

My imagination is stimulated as I do so enjoy,

Loosing sight of the world, the noisy outdoors,

Taken far from home, the life that I’ve known,

Dreaming of other worlds and past dinosaurs.

***

Flying through space one moment, totally free,

When suddenly we perform a crash landing,

The world changes, lost in a horrid bloody war,

Dreaming or is my consciousness expanding.

***

I find myself within an ancient magical forest,

Lost in a fashion, but I’ve not a care at all,

As the forest leaves begin to turn vivid colours,

All oranges, reds and browns of splendid fall.

***

Wandering aimlessly along a track, exploring,

The air carrying a foggy mist, cold and damp,

The edges of the trail displaying mushrooms,

Colourful but uneatable, your body will cramp.

***

The further I amble, the more dense the forest,

When suddenly there’s a large clearing ahead,

With a massive tree displaying it’s green leaves,

It’s a portal to another world, a fantasy instead.

***

This world is truly amazing, with plants galore,

Animals everywhere, a small rabbit and a doe,

Both relaxing at the base of this gorgeous tree,

A stag is peering around at the magic meadow.

***

Am I really experiencing this weird magical land,

No, I must be dreaming but oh, what a dream,

I step into the shadows of this special moment,

And slowly circle the tree into a lit moonbeam.

***

Staring around in awe at where I find myself,

I failed to notice a small figure sound asleep,

Curious as to why the animals surround her,

Fearful that I will wake her as closer I creep.

***

She’s just a tiny thing with gorgeous red hair,

Weird shaped ears, short skirt and bare feet,

I move closer as I’m concerned she is dead,

Then I hear a slight whisper of a heartbeat.

***

Amazing but surreal, I never want to wake,

Lost in my subconsciously projected terrain,

Until I hear the rasping of fingers on paper,

I’m lost in the story but it’s at home I remain.

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Originally posted on Medium