Sonnet Too

Sonnet. I touched upon a dream perfectly chorographic as a ballet troupe of sardines avoiding predators. A dance where no one applauds and everyone is a loser, sad except for the mysterious beauty of shimmering silver in a bottle- green ocean. I touched upon a dream sparkling as fizzy wine bobbles clung to cool glass disappearing with plop- a momentarily rush of happiness- murmour of voices; then the wine was still, yet for a second the of mysterious wonder is remembered. I touched upon a dream cold as a winter forest, blue, frosty mist wrapped around trees; layers of snow on the lake of recollection, but one day a mysterious flash; and all will be remembered.