The world of my dreams

is a wondrous place,

a wondrous place to be.

I can dream of

Lions and Tigers and such

or of course, I can dream about me.

I dream I can fly,

high up in the sky.

I dream I can breathe

in the sea.

I dream I can run

or ski like the wind,

or sleep on the branch of a tree.

I dream I can feast

on cookies and cake,

or eat chips and gravy for tea.

Perhaps bangers and mash,

or if we’ve enough cash,

have a meal out where

the food is Chinese.

Some times I awake,

in my warm bed I quake,

from the monster that

visits at night.

Then I run to my mum

where I’ll come to no harm,

for she’ll sooth my moment of fright.

Then I dream of my home,

all cozy and warm.

I dream of my friend,

George the dog.

Or I’ll dream of my mum,

Who always will come,

to give me a kiss or a hug.

The world of my dreams

is a wondrous world,

a wondrous place to be.

But the place I like best

is safe home in my nest

Just Mum, Dad, Georgie and me.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, December, 1990