Green Thingy: Ode to a Dream

A shaft in the mind
Sliced with blades like thin butter
Dreams flow thickly down
Pouring rain in the gutter

A place familiarly unknown
Where the past is the present
And the future is born
Sleeps the Giant, like a peasant

Softly slowly soundless steps
Ever closer he does get
Memories past of stories read
Watch your step! Don’t bump your head

Eyes like gold of Aztec fame
Brazen face and shaggy mane
He is king of nought in here
He is not even one to fear

Nought has he but one reward
A secret for a treasure hoard
But even this he must depart
A greenish thing, his pure heart

This belongs to his lord’s hand
And gives it thus, with one demand
That in remembrance he will dwell
Saved from the gates of burning hell

His master’s response to this is thus:
“Get inside and don’t make a fuss!”