the poet replies to a dreamer

the poet replies to a dreamer          December 6, 2016
no, no, my love
don’t dream of love
for you stand in the presence
of God above

and what are dreams made of
but hot wind and screams?

while you dream you sleep
but to love you must wake
and love is like the garden
what you sow is what you reap
what you give is what you keep

no, no, my love
don’t dream of love
if you live in the presence
of God above

dreams are but winding roads
merely illusions of gardens and streams

while you dream of love you forget
what it means to live in love
for, my love, i know
you are so busy dreaming
you have forgotten me

what good is your fantasy
if you are too proud, too busy
to love in reality?

no, no, my love
don’t dream of love
while time slips like grains of sand
through idle hands

for if you wanted love
you would earn my love
you spend your time in dreams
ignoring the duties you speak of

you are drunk on your dreams
if you dream of love
but your lover
hasn’t heard your voice
nor seen your face
in long months

time slips like grains of sand
through your idle hands
what is this love you dream of
but do nothing to show proof of?

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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