My ancestors made dream catchers
To hold those that walked our dreams
Is that merely a superstition of old
Or is there some truth as it seems.
We wish each other ‘Sweet dreams’
Hoping for a quiet night full of rest
If they find us wandering along
That our presence will be blessed.
There are times I have later asked
Of the things I felt as you slept
Of my concern for the way you feel
With the secrets and hopes you kept.
Who is to say if there is a blessing
Or is it a curse to feel your dream
I can only say I walk with such care
Knowing we share more than is seen.