Oh the joy of being with the one you love, even if it is in your dreams
The silver moon drips through
The window and across the bed
A starlit sky before my eyes
As I think of all you have said
My eyes are heavy as sleep finds me
And it takes me there to you
My lover, my life
The man who is the weaver of my dreams
All things are new
When I am with you
Even when it is in my dreams
Your voice takes me there
To where I have no cares
Just in the joy of being in the arms
Of the weaver of my dreams
A search for the ghost of a chorus girl chorine haunting a costume designer’s Manhattan apartment leads to an encounter with an eccentric, mischievous witch with the ability to send folks back through time…in this case, the 1919 Ziegfeld Follies.
I wrote this novel several years ago, I self published and never had it to sell. I have decided to rewrite it and hope to get it published within a few months for people to be able to buy. I had a few copies and gave them to a few family members and
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