The Fool
I could go walking to the far field
thinking I might find summer there
where different greens grow in the
water that lies on the surface in a little
valley there
Where there’s a place beneath a tree
with dreams to reach and songs
that sound like the smallest pebble
in an empty bed, echoing and echoing
old melodies
But I come back to my room alone
and I am dry and out of dreams
so that everything laughs at the fool
who thirsts for the water of
distant valleys.
really beautiful pob, I don’t like waking up after really happy dreams sometimes it brings me down because I realize it was just a dream. thank you for this. really great.
For someone so creative I’d think you could come up with a title that doesn’t include " - (says my title must be 20 characters)".
Edit: 
Nice poem by the way.
What though the spicy breezes blow;
Soft o’er ceylon’s isle;
Though every prospect pleases;
And only man is vile
I like it! This poem speaks to me.
It’s placed wrong for reading. I was exasperated because the software seemed to be dictating how I should write my poem.