just musing to William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. The title is of course the bard's words.
Written four hundred years ago
The truth it does not change
Some words appear so wise
Others seem so strange
From the deserts of Nevada
To Scotish rolling glens
The poet and the lunatic
Keep time with ryhming pens
Filling up the rivers
With metaphors that flow
I wish to be a lunatic
Oh words please let me go.
I wish to be a lunatic
Full of rhymes in rows
Cool in English sumers
Warmed by winter snows .
Or let me be a poet
So I can cast a spell,
Let nature find the words
For things I cannot tell.
Not least nor last a lover
So secrets I may find
To why you're sometimes hiding
Somewhere in my mind.
I love this take on Shakespeare... I think I'm all three... each trying to take the upper hand...