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.
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