The Dream of Love

Last night I dreamt about a pretty blonde girl who was a fugitive from the law. She was hiding upstairs in an old gothic chapel when she overheard a tour guide talking to some kids about a giant vampire bat stuck in a cobweb. The man was trying to extract it but the bat was putting up a fierce and noisy fight. She came out of hiding and volunteered to take the bat. In the last part of the dream, she was trying to drive a car while the panicked bat was making a bloody mess of her neck.

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, folks, but Groundhog Day comes first . . .

X Sonnet #1916

The boulder ponders pebbles ranged about.
A rack of stones dissuades the hardened brick.
Seductive masses line the lava route.
The artist works his lonely marble pick.
But rust revokes the axe's might at swing.
For maestro views a prissy stack of fluff.
And now the hills will truly start to sing.
As Venus doffs the mink for classic buff.
His heat had piled stones in silent rank.
But quarry cools as quarry rules the hunt.
She makes a lunch beside the lava bank.
Approaching nigh, he finds his axe is blunt.
The burning corpse provokes her arching brow.
There's no-one left to sculpt her figure now.