From Bill Austin.

As I drift into somnolence,
I'm confronted by a scene:
it appears to be a re-run
of an oft encountered dream.
I'd thought about the journey,
so many, many times,
of the scenery in passing, along
straight and narrow lines.
The trees in bloom, the flowers;
too many birds to number,
the brilliance of the colours
would illuminate my slumber.
T'was only at the journey's
end, when I began to realise,
that it was my final journey,
for I'd arrived in Paradise.