In the depths of a misty fog
The grayness gloom of thickly clouds
As lidded eyes first flicker and move
And the heavy mind removes the shrouds
In this blue and purple precious time
The dream and touch can meet
And all seems real, etherial
You traverse down a foreign street.
The all exotic is right before you
Smells of spice and grasses, coffee
A million things you cannot tell
A flower stand wildly colored
Like a rainbow of promise bright
Without the order or the shape
But of the color tint and light.
A table with fabric, a rack of clothes
Some music plays above your head
And bells and jangles are added noise
Along with trains, and cars and moped
And as the dream fades as fast as it came
I find that my brain is not to blame
The dream is real and everyday
I walk this street, I live this way.