Dream

Sometimes I dream that you are back with me, And that with hands together clasped we go Like little children, young and glad and free, A-down a magic road we used to know. Sometimes I dream your eyes upon my face, And feel your fingers softly touch my hair.... And when I wake from dreaming all the place, Seems lonelier because you are not there. What is a dream? Not very much, they say, An idle vision made in castled Spain- Well, maybe they are right.... And yet, today, When all the warring world was swept with pain, The suffering and sorrow ceased to be, Because I dreamed that you were back with me!