Wishful Dream

I’d like to follow the leaf strewn path,

dappled with rays of the morning sun

as it winds its way through forest and glade

then falls from sight near the river run.

I’d like to hear a bluebird’s song,

relax for a while, smell the moist earth,

lay my head on a pillow of moss,

dream of tomorrow and hope’s rebirth.

The shimmering light embracing the path

marks a doorway that leads to a magical place

that transforms and renews the weariest soul,

bestowing the gift of unmerited grace.

In my mind I see this enchanting path

where welcoming light and shadows seem

to draw me into its mystery

but, in truth, it’s only a wishful dream.