A poem about an old man's yearning for rest from the trials of life.
There's a place of peace and rest, I think.
In daydreams there are hints.
But lost they are in just a wink,
and leave no fingerprints.
My valley is of rolling green,
with castles in the mist,
and starry glitter nightly seen
as by the heavens kissed.
At torment's end, forgiveness.
Release from worldly cares.
A pardon's leave to live in this-
a rarity of airs.
Though just a dream, I hold it fast,
abandoning it never.
In days of present, future, past,
it holds me close, forever.