Creative Writing: Blossoms from a Long-lost Past

This poem is a few years old, but I've never quite gotten it right. It's better now than when I started, but I'm not satisfied with it yet. I was still tweaking it 5 minutes before I posted this.

Blossoms from a Long-lost Past

Last night I dreamt
of dreamers dancing in the dark,
of lovers true,
who sighed in some secluded park.

I dreamt the smell
of blossoms from a long-lost past.
I dreamt it well
to make those moments true and fast.

And then, when day
was just about to make its start,
I woke. And cried
a sacred poem from my heart.

A fluid drop
of meter, accent, words and rhyme,
that trickled to
this page, this day, and to these times.