                                    DREAMS
                             by Martin Zialcita


                       I dreamt of a thousand lilies
                       Blooming on a moonless night.
                       A gust of wind blew across
                       The silent meadow - 
                       Quiet save the sound of
                       Pixies and sprites.

                       Deep within the halls
                       Of some unknown tower,
                       Hands are clasped in prayer
                       And a head bowed down
                           In shame.

                       Amidst the evening noise
                       Of an ever growing city,
                       The magistrate sits beside
                       The window-sill:
                       Contemplating the line
                       Between justice and mercy.

                       Perhaps this is some midnight fancy   
                       Troubling an innocent mind...
                       Or perhaps this is the truth
                       Colored by the drench of an evening
                       Of lilies, pixies and sprites.


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