Cowherd's Tune

by Portia Burton

Slowly the dark night come to my bed
Bringing along with the buds of dreams,
Which open out and entice me
To their abstract and enchanting world.

Grabbing a dream’s hand I reach a dense wood,
Where the fairies are singing a flowery song,
And the grass is sipping the nascent dew-drops,
While a bluish cowherd is playing on a flute.

His music soon entrances the gentle breeze,
Which starts throbbing and becomes a whirlwind,
To suck up the cowherd and also the fairies,
Leaving only me there, benumbed and transfixed.

Frightened and aghast, I want to turn back,
And run clueless to find an exit,
Then with a great gasp re-enter my body,
Only to wake up again with a sweated brow.

But how come my pillow now smells of wood,
And why do I still hear that cowherd’s tune?

©Portia Burton 2012

2 thoughts on “Cowherd’s Tune by Portia Burton

  1. Neil Chatterton

    Wow – absolutley wonderful. You have such an ability to have me believe, that  I am inside your poem….your talent continues to evolve!

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