Green and Roses

I saw her dream on a white pillow
patterned with bright defined roses.
Just like the garden she dreamed of, as she ran
through the green and possible, to that place
where dreams turn from what could be, what might be,
to that stranger land of flying and nudity.

The place where all the rules are torn
to scatter like coloured confetti over
the beast and his new bride, as he takes her
in his rough paws, there, on the church path.
Then tears her bridal dress wide open
as the laughing congregation applaud, then rush
to take hasty photographs of the happy couple.

But this is just another random moment
as her ornate slow boat glides, stately,
down endless winding summer rivers,
towards an unspoilt secret location,
where she will find the world exploding
into electronic buzzing and rose-patterned pillows.

While I will fade slowly away
as the day dissolves my presence into light.
and all she will be left with, is that vague
feeling of not being alone, that someone
was there - watching over her dreams -
as she slept deep between green sheets.