Dream, The Halo Poem by James McLain

When I let you escape, I cry.
Melting all of my, is your magic.
Across the sky, look at the dream.

That halo, I try, does white some days red,
your magnolia hangs down at me wistfully, like the valley,
pleasing the pleasant nymph.

Exhales each expectation…
The bud whose seriousness reachs out for you, to grasp.
Branching out, my remainder is small - my indistinct dream.

It is glossy - my need to see the end through.
How it decorates the sky when mixed with pearls.
When I let it escape, I cry,
melting of the seven heavans is the feeling of wind.

Getting near to me, if it does not love me where is
lays it should, me, you so valuable it longs it believes,
the string at the end is not tied.

Doubt naught my strength
and the root which for you it is dug.
Sound of that silver maker, makes, calm and with you,
there it is, a baritone singer,
it is desired, is desired.

In proper order I help this off, tilted center.
To answer too you, I work.
The tuning fork of the sharp is the A.
Minor, which is this, the center of mine the universe
and in you and why it believes.