To Waste a Dream
The words you string
you call a dream,
while thoughts that sway inside
you hide …
a pricy wince
at once with strides
that flood the willing dream,
a breaking gust
that flows with tides
and begs you
not to waste our dream,
can time our past
flow past us
and stress that
wasted dreams do last,
and place
your stout belief in sight
of every right to dream,
and couch a dreamy slight
in words
that still would call you mine,
lace a wilting wine
with rust
lines our wasted dreams
and must,
erase you and the dream
that wastes
evasive weighted tastes,
pine for times
that raise,
wasted dreams no doubt …
and simply waits
for us
to waste our dream…
again
Copyright © Lebo Bopalamo | Year Posted 2013
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