i am not made of brilliant dreams

of shining lights, of big, bold screens

that scream at you whilst you traipse the big, bold city

on a rainy night, with your head hung low

and how the colours will twirl in an occasional puddle 

and you will walk through all the muddle and how things 

will cease: the day, the breeze

but not the dreams, and not the show

but what i am, i shall present 

for there are chances 

i may earn your consent 

for i will dream with you on a starlit night 

(i will look at the stars and back at you

 and tell you how)

there is only a semblance 

of difference, quite a striking resemblance

and that you twinkle just as well for me 

and maybe even more 

i am not made of brilliant dreams 

but i can keep Yours safe for you