Dreams

The moon shines bright in the night;
The child sleeps peacefully in a cradle white.
A lock of hair lies on her brow
Her tunic is as white as snow.

The mother sits by, reading a book
Regarding her child with a loving look,
She softly a lullaby sings,
Her voice as soft as an owl’s wings.

The child slowly begins to dream
And in the dream is a clear stream.
But oh! The child does unusually think,
For the stream in the dream is pink!

From the stream she catches a fish
Thinking, oh good, it will make a very good dish!
But it is rather ugly, she thinks with a pout
Right then the fish, from her grip, slips right out!

She awakens with a sudden cry
Her mother soothingly wipes her soft cheeks dry.
The child gradually goes back to sleep.
And this time, she goes in deep.