Why Do We Dream?
By John A. Wilson
Why do we dream of soft winds
And moonlight in the trees,
Of branches reaching to the sky
Stripped of all their leaves.
Of Cassiopeia and Orion
High in the November sky
Of running feet, of bloodcurdling screams
As a Phantom rushes by.
Why do we dream of dust and smoke
And the moans that the wounded make?
Why do we dream of a night firefight
And the lives that we had to take?
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