After I listened to her soft voice
Gently speak of surreal times
I knew I had to write a poem
As unknowing hung in the air I spread the ink
With hard chosen secrets half told
Whispered in the ultimate dream, the dream beneath
The dream where roots of the tree beneath the tree branched out
For a stake in morning light beneath the morning light
Where her soft voice eased into the depths of surreal times
like a poem beneath the poem

© Joseph Olsen