PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

my dreams are not a bradford pear

bursting forth suddenly and hastily grown,

their rings are tightly knit and slow to spread.

my dreams are not fragile, susceptible to splintering

when the fierce winds of adversity blow

with heavier boughs than their trunk can support.

my dreams do not bear inedible fruit,

and pretty flowers that smell of acrid flesh

planted solely for their aesthetic pleasantry.

my dreams are the mighty sequoia,

the sycamore and cedar, begrudgingly slow,

lost in the forest, saplings among giants.

my dreams send their roots deep into the aquafir

binding themselves into the depths of the earth

as scarcely a leaf has unfolded to taste the sun.

my dreams are not ornamental, to be grown for kindling,

pallet wood, pulped into paper or pencils sharpened to a nub;

they are a late crop, patient, planted for generations to come.

my dreams will be mighty boards,

decking vast man o' wars at sea;

my dreams are pillars of rosewood

holding up the homes of the wise;

my dreams shall grow and their shade shall linger

long after I have been planted in the soil as a seed...