Flowers Touch Upon A Dream

Little flowers ready to bloom,

Among others in the rainbow meadow;

Devoid of any fear or gloom,

Cheerfully I look through my window.

Soon realize the butterfly shades of a rainbow,

Calling out my name;

Over and over again in a row,

Recalling the various shadows I overcame.

Gushing out on the surface of this pillow,

Brought back the little flowers like a shiny beam;

Arresting yet releasing was this fabricated sorrow,

Rousing the gradual wake from a forgone dream.