The world is a dream
in watercolours,
muted, still
unreal

And the people in watercolours
walk somberly
through the town;
the earth

Flowers with their drooping heads
nod gently
in the rain,
forlorn

While she looks through windows,
searching still
for some thing
missing

And the world is a dream
in watercolours,
muted, still
unreal.