The Dream - the Real
It’s a flight of misgivings.
Travels, to distinction.
With passports in hand…
vision is lost.
A fog storm,
of epic proportions.
“Oh – (sigh and huff, wailing)
Where do we go?! What do we do?!”
(whining)
Whining…
Such a gift,
wasted.
A trip down memory lane,
I will blow kisses.
And you wave from the front deck.
We think our trauma
connotes celebrity.
We think our problems
are the DEAL – BREAKERS.
I will high five drama,
And you will sob
in the corner.
OR…
Handed a new map.
Written on a sheet of grace.
I will hold my own hand,
And you will include me,
in all your trips.
No running.
No silly. Good silly.
We are not a straight line,
Circles, planets, spirals,
Drawn in the prettiest of colours I could find.
Glowing thru the prettiest love I could find.
Once upon a time
A hero
Met an angel…
and a circle will grow glowing.
Copyright © Jenifer Johansen | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment