Dreamworld

A lighthouse, inexplicably deep in the mossy woods
with the bright pinpricks of fly agaric and
the soft phosphorescence of midnight in natural places,
wherein I live, perhaps alone or with you,
and a cat, Wiggles, with two lambs and a pig,
a garden for nightshades and melons,
and nothing much to do, just read and
make coffee on the damp mornings.
Such dreams are,
alas,
better than this world.

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