We are not as we expected,
The weight of flesh has fallen off our bones,
We have become light,
Although not by our own choice,
Always losing a part of something special to something not quite as much.
I wanted to be a writer.
I wish the words would jump off of me and unto the page,
We hate making the effort don’t we?
We don’t want to spend that time searching for that magic,
If only it would just appear the way we had dreamed about it so long,
As if it had found its own way to be its own way.
~Another Dream Deferred~
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 3:11 AM UTC
We are not as we expected,
The weight of flesh has fallen off our bones,
We have become light,
Although not by our own choice,
Always losing a part of something special to something not quite as much.
I wanted to be a writer.
I wish the words would jump off of me and unto the page,
We hate making the effort don’t we?
We don’t want to spend that time searching for that magic,
If only it would just appear the way we had dreamed about it so long,
As if it had found its own way to be its own way.
~Another Dream Deferred~