My Dream Time.

A quiet moment in time, It is six o'clock as the church clock chimes, I'm living life backwards, Creating my own show of mime, I see in the distance tall trees reaching to dreams of clouds, I hear the sound of water trickling from a broken down-pipe, I look deeply at myself, I have an urge to write and then type, My simmering feelings, As the birds sing in the dying spring sunlight, Quenching my thirst for a new beginning, To start on a blank page with hindsight Of hard lessons learnt along my creeping life story, I imagine skies falling to the deepest blue oceans, Barren mountains climbing to higher notions, Living backwards is putting my world right, The night captures the daylight, I ask for answers to the moon shimmering so bright, It's a question of feeling true, To light a candle to encourage the ghosts of the past, To be part of my dreaming time, As I switch the light off in my bedroom, The darkness dances with my departed family and friends, They leap around my bedroom with an everlasting joy of no tomb, They are all part of my dream time, That is a touch of serenity in this rhyme.