Some Dreams Die Young
While babysitting for our dreams,
It is not much of a surprise and certainly
Not much painstaking,
If we find a dream or an idea, spurious --
Or a cherished one, or an overrated one,
roll over from its bedding of warm heart,
Into a template that scares the living daylight out of it.
Dreams are like moon --
They shine more,
During our darker days,
But not every moon,
Ever get to claim the sky.
Some dreams die young --
Some at the point of fruition,
And some even, when we thought,
Daylight has broken over them.
But whatever the case,
You must thank your stars,
For helping to incubate and nurture
Those dreams that made it through.
Roll out your heart of thanksgiving,
Wear a rose and gold on your happiness,
So that if there is ever such a thing as fate,
And if there is ever such a thing as good fortune,
And there are powers that see them through,
They will duff their hats,
Always at the bedding of your dreams,
That is how to make your pregnant goat
Deliver a cow.