Dreams

Dreams

Moses never led his people to the promised land

Magellan never sailed his ships home

Puccini never finished his journey to Turandot

I’ve never reached my daydreams.

I led up to them,

talking and walking

barefoot on  moss,

across streams

to the other side.

I reached for them on tippy-toes

never let go.

That’s my trouble

I’m no Michelangelo

and so I watch those daydreams

grow and grow

into memories

–  elephants in  my room –

wondering  what Moses felt

as he watched the people

leave the desert

their daydreams shining.

Maybe it’s a feast to simply daydream

and trek on

until I lose the breath for daydreams

and ‘in that sleep of death

dream on.

 

8 thoughts on “Dreams

  1. Pleasant Street – thank you very much. For me, it’s special whenever someone feels the poem means something to them: in a sense, they own that poem. And for you in particular to say you understand every word – and have it hurting your feelings – that means the poem is good.
    You know your poems mean plenty to me, I hope.

    Like

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