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Life is but a dream
Life is a dream of sorts,
I row row row my boat gentle down
to who knows where!?
And when I get there,
I row row row some more.
And when I die,
Iíll row row row myself
back into life again.
Back into the joy
and the pain again.
Rowing - rowing - rowing gently down the stream,
gentle in my dream.
For life is really but a dream of sorts,
although we can touch it with our hands,
although we can see it with our eyes,
although we can move through it with our ores.
But itís still a dream as we all go;
Rowing / rowing / rowing, gently down the stream.
© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au firstname.lastname@example.org 20 February 2003