Dreams: a poem

Get your head out of the clouds

and your feet back on the ground

where you can’t breathe underwater

and the sky isn’t painted every color

and anything can’t happen

*

Quit dreaming of an impossible tomorrow

of wildflowers in January

and sunshine at midnight,

of warmth that’ll stop your heart cold

and someone that will know you

inside and out

*

We are told to close our minds

as age wrinkles our skin

and our bones lengthen and then

bend and become brittle,

our hair falls out

faster than the stars in our eyes

*

Have I truly stopped

my dreaming?

Am I planted too firmly here

on this earth?

Have I become too accustomed

to what the world has told me

that I can have,

what to expect,

how far to reach?

*

What if I ignored those who would

place boundaries on my imagination

as I aged?

What if my possibilities

once again

became limitless?

What then

could I accomplish

if there was nothing

to stop me?

*

TJSEP

12–6–21