Dreams
Dreams, not dreams, not conscious schemes,
the other kind when sleep we find.
Dreams, those dreams, those sort of things,
pictures in unconscious minds.
Dreams let's talk dreams,
when eyes rapidly move on moon's sweet beams.
Dreams those senseless themes,
that seem to come from the strangest things.
Dreams rarely repeat though we dream they would.
For uniqueness sake I guess that's good.
Dreams, some dreams we have much need,
to discover their hidden deeds.
Dreams, some dreams on the other hand,
I just as soon not know their plan.
Dreams are not really your dreams,
for someone else directs the scenes.
So dream a dream that dreamers do,
it will make those other dreams come true.
Copyright © Wren Rushing | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment