Asylum of dreams

The dying summer breeze touches my hair,
as I watch the city dying in the dusk.
Another day ends and hands over the scepter to the night,
for it to rule in a dark and tranquil time.
And I rave between the worlds of mine and all's.
I keep my dearest in the dreamy planes of my head.
For they could not be so dear, if they were real,
such love would be abysmal and haunting.
The warmth of summer caresses my back,
I see particles of dust in the bright light,
crawling between the leaves of trees.
I turn around and stare into the sun.
It feels grand, but hurts - like life.
I wish for the moment to stay forever,
And I wish for those dearest of mine to come out of the dream,
to sit next to me, lean over my shoulder, and stare into the sun.
We would be so close, yet so different.
I'd want to stay and lay and pray,
but they'd want to play, and roll over in the grass.
And I, imbued with the strength of the sun,
would come along and jump higher.
And when we'd gotten tired,
We'd unwrap the table cloth upon ground and sit again;
behave like a lovely family at a dinner in the dusk.

But there's no place on earth where I could find such peace.
and that's why I retreat,
to the shelter of the dream-weaver.