And lovers love to dream.
Dreamers love to love themselves to sleep,
So that they might dream deep and in color,
And even in the trancelike states
Of their subconscious minds,
They can smell the jasmine.
I can smell gingerbread tonight,
And aromatic coffee on to brew,
And in my dream, so many things I ought to do,
But I hear music on the portico.
Ting-a ling, ting-a-ting tong.
I want nothing more than to dance with you
While the night is young,
And my dreams are playing a song
Just for us on the wind chimes.
-jenn
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