Dream Street
Oh, the many nights I have walked along the
Lamp-lit lane of Dream Street, passing
All the musing dreamers languishing there,
Like those who chase the dragon as their
Refuge from the world, and along that street, those
Leaning lamppost stand, caressed like lovers,
Held for comfort from the grief of unrealized
Desire and hopes unfulfilled, as the singers
And writers who pretend to fame, and
Poets prattle endless lines upon lines for an
Elusive rhyme; but sadness is the poem they
Write, for their dream is as a mist before the
Garish Sun, melting yearning into tears which
Stain morning's pillow - the fantasy interrupted -
And Dream Street succumbs to an austere daylight
Until eyes close again, and we vagabonds stroll
Along that windswept street, strewn with the pages
Of hope and the heavy sighs of dreams denied.
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