Living the dream

There once was a man who no-one knew,

he lived on a hill called Gunafazoo.

He liked very much to stay in his bed,

where dreams of fairytales swam in his head.


One day he was a prince, the next a sailor,

sometimes a brave and strong dragon tamer!

Yes, all was well in that house on the hill,

there’s nothing like a good dream to give you a thrill!


Yet, something was missing when he opened his eyes,

he woke up wanting a world full of lies,

full of witches and princes and terrible beasts,

a world made of mermaids and bountiful feasts.


But when he did wake, all that he saw,

was his plain kitchen table and rickety door.

All that was there was a house and a hill,

all he could see was lots of space to fill.


So that’s what he did there on Gunafazoo,

he built and painted and his house grew.

Up and out and down it went,

until the man was all but spent.


People came from miles around,

to see the house that replaced the ground.

It had creatures and colours and all manner of things,

and the man on the hill was the humblest of kings.


Now everyone knew who he was so it seemed,

for his house was a kingdom from a beautiful dream.

The man’s life was happy and not at all grey,

because now he is living, not sleeping life away.






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