Stern hard face of reality
Frowning in distaste.
The frivolity
Of my ideas,
The waste!
I see in others things not found,
Perhaps they never were.
Dress the bald head
In soft tresses
Of hair.
But how sad for the poor dreamer,
From a summer's lane
To the hard streets,
Cold winter wind
And rain.
May I keep my kaleidoscope,
For when day is done
Its colours dance,
Reality
Is gone.
Hey.......I like this gem of a poem! Very nicely done!!