My world-
I carry it with me.
It's small-
A speck, or a marble-
Most of the time.
But when I want it
It opens up
And encloses me.
Inside there is room
For everything I think of.
In my world,
No thought is too strange
And nothing is too weird to exist,
But nothing serious can stay for long.
And when I'm done,
I close up all my thoughts inside
And lock it for another time.
My world doesn't exist
Like a room or a house,
But a fortress;
A fortress of dreams.
Lawrence R. Daffner, 5/89