During the season of Fall, in a particular deep slumber
I happened upon a realm
Where reality could not encumber
Falling through a scrim of black
I landed amongst a troupe with wide eyes and, hair made of wiry curls.
A carnival was at hand!
The type where popcorn littered the ground
Tim Burton was working the ferris wheel, making it swirl round and, round
With a bow and, his hands clasped in gratitude he humbly gestured;
In response to my “Im a huge fan” remark as my delight increasingly festered
With a shy smile and, a twitch of mischief in his eyes
He invited me to walk with him on a dirt path with dusk falling in the skies
In silence, I absorbed all he divulged to me
We turned a corner where a dusty shack was and, he offered me tea
Dust sprinkled both our unruly hair using beams of fading sunlight
While Tim poured a most delightful tea that tasted and, filled me like that of midnight
Who knows how many times the moon circled around the two of us in that shack.
But, time is a construct for creatives and I never wanted to go back
We chatted as equals
mentor and novice
All of his work, the guidance he bestowed I’ll forever keep
What he said to me won’t ever be spoken or penned.
This moment still very real, now as it was then, had sadly come to an end
My reality appeared
It was time to awaken and, accept all that I certainly feared
Slowly closing the door Tim bid me farewell
He thanked me for the afternoon of trusted amity
Waving he faded. I braced for calamity
But I awoke with a smile; creative senses afloat
I met Tim Burton in dream
And thanks to that dream of Tim
I am finally filled with melodic hope