An open field:

Seems to open wider

To form a triangle

And round stones in a circle

Where a peach tree is

Drippings sweet nectar

In a land with no name

A child at the base of the tree

Looks up me and to the sky

Filling me with question marks

And a sleep witinin the stars

Still dancing through constellations

Sill with bird in hand

As that was an island

Lit up by the waxing moon

For the form of dreams to

Form.