My dream.....

It was the night,
iwas there with moon and stars,
I gave him canvas,
He painted the poem,
With colors & emotions;
I asked myself,
"Am I the canvas,tha colors,or the poem?"
In my dream ,
Igave him the theme,
He gave me the words 
For me his words were golden beads,
He beaded the srtings of the silk,
I confess the string was my dream.
A strong wind blew,
The string broke..
The beads scattered..
"Shall i collect the beads & preserve
it with care?"
I dare , for the dream was so rare........