A Dream Too Far

My friends,

I find myself so drawn

To others I can’t see

And yet, their souls are visible.

Is this only me?

 

All week long

I worked and wanted

To share myself with thee

To read your truths and your stories of

Truth and fantasy.

 

It seems to me

That I now live a lie

In once, choice profession.

Excuse me, please, I know this sounds like

Sordid, mean confession.

 

It is not that.

It’s just that, well,

I’ve written far too long and hidden all

I’ve thought and felt,

Like BBC banned song.

 

At last I feel

I’ve found my way,

Words upon the page

Flowing more profusely

Than at any other age.

 

I love my kids

Inside my school,

I know I do them well,

I, seriously, could do no other.

They’re like my own, myself.

 

But what to do,

I’m fifty-two.

I know that that’s not ancient

But I don’t know if I have will

To be forever patient

 

To do what I have always felt

Is so my heart’s desire

To set chosen words

Upon a page

To fuel a literary fire.

 

I kind of figured

A short while ago

That all this was a dream,

Like fairy belief and flying;

Nothing as it seemed.

 

Such disarray within my thoughts,

My dreams are running wild

And yet,

I am responsible,

No longer infant child.

 

May dreams surpass

All aged years,

All human expectation?

Is wanting something longed before

Merely, childish, frustration?

 

It may be so.

I think it may

Be nothing more than flight,

Imagination, born of dreams

Aurora Borealis light.

 

But, still,

I see them flashing there

Right before my eyes,

I look forever upwards

At heavenly, promised skies.

 

If truth be told,

There’s part of me

Still gurgling in my cradle.

I can’t let go, confession time.

I simply am not able.                                   

 

Advertisement