It isn’t going to happen -
Putting pen to paper
Will not make it real.
When dreams are made
From bubble gum
They pop and splatter
On your face
Leaving you with
Sticky goo that
Only washes off
Wth tears.

You cannot
Make it work.
Like stacking marbles
Or bowling *****.
No matter how gingerly
You place them
They will come down
And roll away,
Sending you
In all directions
In vain attempt
To gather them
Back up again.

A rose can’t change
Its color.
All the nurture,
Food and care
Can’t make a
White one
Bloom as red.
Some things
Are just beyond
The scope of effort,
Pain and love.
They must be the color
Soil and seed
Intended for them
All along.

How sad,
Impossibilities
That stack like
Concrete blocks
And form
A wall
Across the path
You thought would
Take you there,
Stranding you
On the wrong side
With naught but
Bubble gum and
Bowling *****, while
Crying on white roses
ljm