Dreamer’s Birthday

This poem was written for, given to, and is dedicated to Shauna Beeh, my (EDIT: then current, now ex – 06/2014) girlfriend, whose birthday was recent.

Dreamer’s Birthday

 

The angels were looking down

                At the world that they watch on

And though they liked what they saw

                They felt that something was wrong

                So to the fairies they called upon.

 

The fairies said, “We feel it too

                There is something definitely missing

We don’t know what, it’s just not there,

                We know it’s just a feeling

                This thing that makes us sing.”

 

The angels asked, “What do we do?”

                And no one had an answer.

Then one fairy, tiny and pink,

                Said, “I know that I’m not sure,

                But I think I have a cure.”

 

“This world is boring, dull and bland,

                Alive but without movement,

And through the day the world is sad

                But at night I try to listen.

                All I hear, though, is silence.”

 

“We need someone to bring forth life

                To get these people laughing.

To make days bright and people smile

                And I know that this sounds sappy

                But I think we should call it happy.”

 

The angels and fairies pondered over

                The pink fairy’s suggestion

Though they disagreed on the name

                The idea he had was the one

                They felt best was to be done.

 

So from the fire of the sun

                They grabbed a strand of light.

The daisies donated a pink gerber

                The lavender was in such delight

                They danced with mint all through the night.

 

The fairies and the angels worked

                Through the night and day

To create this perfection of being

                Using all of their gifts as they may

                A new life they set to create.

 

And as a last and final gift

                To this thing they made of beauty

The hopes and thoughts and imaginings

                That come to people while they sleep

                And they call these things dreams.

 

Every night the dreamer goes

                And flies across the land.

Giving thoughts and dreams and images

                To make them feel the best they can

                Each day that passes in the sand.

 

And once a year they celebrate

                With daises and gum a plenty.

A giant rosebud birthday cake

                And songs to make her happy.

                The dreamer’s born and laughing.

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