The morning swelled in my head
like a tempest,
and lightning splintered through my brain
like rivers divide land on a map-
the coffee was thin that morning,
and yet the tension was thick-
it hit me that my dreams only thrived
on paper-
paper dreams are sometimes the worst
a visual tease that’s all too easily crumpled,
and all too easily forgotten-
like old receipts, they are often stuffed into
pockets to collect darkness and dust,
discarded into a stack of unfinished old dreams,
or simply buried or thrown away, tossed
into the disposal of days and weeks and
the coffee was weak,
but my resolve was strong-
paper, for all its frailties, can become
airplanes, and soar-
they mold into cranes, and shapeshift
and bend and become whatever the
eye can envision-
paper populates legendary libraries and they house
volumes of some of the greatest thoughts
and dreams and hopes ever recorded-
paper dreams can become a beautiful
the morning swelled and the thunder
collided with the clouds like a scrum,
and it hit me with the power of the rivers
that divide the maps-
paper dreams can become the best kind,
proof that the mind is busy at work and
a visual tease,
an appetizer that gets you salivating
and hungry,
heightening your drive and stimulating
your passion,
leading to a brilliant main course-
it’s easily crumpled, but just as easily folded
into a neat square, ready to be taken
with you-
those timeless dreams, just waiting to be unfolded
and read aloud into the welcoming of the
ready then to be fleshed out with the force
of a tempest*


One comment

  1. gypsy11

    The same action can be seen and interpreted In many different ways. This shows us that. It all depends on the mindset of the seer. Excellent poem Gary.

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