The meaning of “Smorfia” is well explained here.
I wrote about a similar topic in April 2018, when my theme was a Tarot.
I rode my bike to work, in last night’s dream:
It was a fine, warm spring day, in my dream,
Mothers were out with children, in this dream,
And old men walked their dogs through my dream.
I rode from my town to the next, in my dream,
And no one stopped me, no one asked my why,
And I saw two men talking, in my dream,
And even greeting others passing by.
A child—by the canal—was feeding ducks
And moorhens, and waved at me, in my dream;
At crossings I waited for cars and trucks
To pass: just a working day, in my dream.
I can still remember the world of my dream:
It was not so long ago as it may seem.
Note: today’s prompt from napowrimo.net was “write a poem based on an image from a dream.” Because of the Coronavirus emergency, I have been confined at home with my family since the end of February: that means that any dream I may have regards a world I have not seen first-hand for over a month. Any image will do, really. In this dystopic world of ours, anything that seemed real until February 21st, 2020, now seems like a dream. (OK, I’ll stop there, otherwise I’ll start quoting Edgar Allan Poe…)
P.S.: to make the prompt-giver at napowrimo.net happy, I included birds in my dream.