In a quaint English Town

In a quaint English town

with cobblestone streets

and a pub like The Crown

strange things occurred,

as if out on their own…

A surreal streak, contorted lines

swept through the houses

and blurred all confines

straightness got twisted

in scenes that aroused us.

On the left of the street

a wagon with horses

emerged like a cheat

engaging the mind

to adjust and confuse us.

Two swirls in the skies

suggested some moon,

two heavenly eyes

half waxing half waning

to disappear soon.

Townspeople appeared

in a haze, in a dream.

A strangeness incurred.

Nothing containable,

something unheard…

Familiar streets grew into a riddle.

A canvas of dreams

emerged little by little

into wonders and visions

of long-ago themes.