Label
"Le Jardin Ne Nos Reves"
("My Garden of Dreams")
By Myrl Lehman Tapungot
And when at last I sleep,
I see my garden of dreams.
Perfect in form and grace,
beyond all words to describe.
Upon waking, the blossoms
are blown away,
Only pale, mute images remain.
Old eyes and hands and
lack of skill, make my garden
remain forever in my dreams.
For I am a dreamer of fanciful
dreams, but lack the gift to
make them come true.
Many years have passed, and
now, skillful artistic hands, help
make my dream a reality.
Working for many months,
often far into the night, striving
to capture my elusive vision.
"Look" today, behold it
in all its beauty.
The symmetry of perfect form.
A symphony of elegant stitches,
after a lifetime of dreams.
Who said we only need doers?
This world also needs dreamers.