Dreams

Sometimes when I dream
I see the place I’d like to be,
A comfortable place
Not perfect by any means,
But it suits me

I often wonder what
These dreams could mean
But under close reflection,
They always seem,
To be but delusions

Never will they make,
I think,
The sense that they should
But just a little clarity
Would be good

Perhaps an ease
Would be too much
For this mind to bear
And I should plod on
Without a care