Dreams

There are things you see in dreams,
now, perhaps on smart screen streams,
curated by a Google or a Groc
and follow like the others in your flock
that you believe are real and sensed
And you are told to be against
while mommy drives you to your class
does everything, but wipes your ass.
But I am here to tell you this.
All this will end with your first kiss.
The wind will brush your hair.
You will elate and then despair,
and everything you see, or touch
will seem intense, too much;
sunrise will make you cry,
sunsets will make you want to die,
you will hunger, yet not eat.
The ground will never touch your feet.
tall trees will whisper secret tales
mountains drop their secret veils
flowers surrender secret bouquets
and you will count the hours, days
until, maybe, perhaps, by chance
The two of you exchange a glance.

anxietychildhooddesireloverhyme

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