Precious little droplets of time
leaving these hands of mine
I wonder
What will I come to find
when I leave this place behind?
My dreams
A quiet stream of pearls passing my mind
forever am I slave to its subconcious grind
Captive
In a future not yet by my eyes seen
yet it holds such alluring sheen
Moving
To a future with no space between
you, me and our common dream
Ron