She sits and weaves baskets. Just empty baskets it seems. But every one that she weaves Is a basket of dreams. Nobody knows The love that they hold. Each one is filled With dreams new and old. Baskets with colors Some pale... some bright. She spends her days weaving Dreams from the night. She dreams of her warrior Long gone from her arms She still sees his spirit As she weaves all his charms. She weaves red for his laughter Black for his eyes. Purple for his passion Orange his smile as bright as the sun And their love... as blue as the sky. She weaves dreams of the past And the love that they shared. She weaves dreams of tomorrow Knowing he'll never be there. The long day is over She lies by the fire Dreaming her dreams Of love and desire. Tomorrow she'll weave Her baskets again Filling each one With dreams of him. Joanne Murray Vereb© Poetry and Page were created with Love by Joanne/GabbiAsh May 8, 2003 updated October 3, 2008 To Send This To A Friend Click The Button Below: Joanne in Dreamland© Feel free to send any of my pages out but To take any part separate would constitute copyright infringement. Thank You You're listening to Long Day Is Over by Norah Jones The Songs on my pages are copyrighted by the respective artists There is absolutely no money made from my pages or the songs used in them My pages are published at my own expense and most songs are from my own collection Or sent from friends. If you like a song... PLEASE support the artists and buy their CD's. Floater java script courtesy of Dynamic Drive