The Old Miner’s Dream

The Old Miner’s Dream

As I awake this winters early morn
and pull aside the old curtain rag
Moonlight filters through frosted window panes
’Tis now the spirits’ sag.

With thickening coal scared finger nails
I destroy winter’s work of art
Ice particles cascading upon my bed
To rise now will require great heart

To leave behind a well worn bed
But rise and to the mine I must go
and earn a measly crust hewing black gold
that lies buried far, far below

Or, shall I just once more lay down this weary head
And dream my dream of a place not far from here
Where the air is clean and fresh
and the waters run crystal clear

Beneath the tilting willow tree
that strokes a softly spoken stream
Lies dapple shade on lush green grass
inviting me to dream

With rays of sunlight descending on this great tree
and a warm gentle breeze caressing each slender leaf
their radiance now will dance a feathered touch
beguiling all who dare beneath

Where I can cast aside the shades of life
that drown my every thought
And lay down a weary head
where solace can be sought.

Charles C Baines