The dream never meant to be.

The clouds are always gray.

I wondered, like a cloud that floats over the hills. As I look, I can see 100 people and a host of golden daffodils. On the side of a lake. And trees dancing in the breeze. As stars that twinkle way up high in the sky. Then I saw 10,000 people tossing their heads in a sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced. As I gazed, but little thought was wealth they showed me I bought as on the couch I lie and the bliss solitude of the night.