Ode to My Dreams

Ode to My Dreams
DC Griffith
 
My dreams are so far away
they are invisible
you could reach for the stars
holding the entire galaxy in your hands
and still
you couldn´t reach them
they´re a bushel of prickly pears
razor-thin cuts just to taste
the sweet
past´s dead weight, lucky enough to touch
yet too blind to notice
now ornaments of yesteryear
that bring me here

My dreams
you´ll have them, too
you probably dare
your own, not mine
then again
we can share
you can steal
they come and go like trains
through Times Square
I stare outward
my back to the blood orange setting sun
only to dream again

And

Somewhere a sister dies
somewhere a baby cries
somewhere a child has no home
somewhere a mother beats her son
somewhere a father gives up
somewhere someone´s winning bingo at church
somewhere someone spent too much money
somewhere the world´s just fine
somewhere it never is
somewhere dreams die
lost or found, somewhere they are stillborn
but not

My dreams

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