Friday, February 11, 2011


My outer life is taking on
the quality of a dream:

I live in a tree-walled garden
filled with bird song,
a black and white rabbit
zipadees around and around;
a rose, hemmed in by a mock orange
and a Japanese honeysuckle,
spindles itself higher and higher
until it ventures
one vibrant orange flower.

If death is akin to sleep,
please can I keep on dreaming.


  1. Reading this a lovely start to my day. Vivx

  2. A beautifully surreal and poignant poem.
    Ditto Viv and thank you Diana.
    I will keep it with me as I go about my day.

  3. Recent events in Christchurch have left me without words. I hope the dream returns again to replace the nightmare. But it is a truly uplifting poem. Dreams are such a gift, as are metaphors and symbols, especially of joy and peace.
    Which I wish you, Diana, with all my heart