I dreamt of you, scenic beauty

and waterfall thunder, I dreamt

of you and the forest clearing

in which you beckoned

me to explore, nature blossoming

to the sound of a pair

of butterfly wings beating

softly and in time with my own

enslaved heart, the scribe

never forgets the Queen

of Pharaoh Isle

and the image of her warm heart

in colour laden dreams as

she destroyed the scribe

time and time again,

the scribe always smiles

at the memory with

certain youthful pleasure.