Different Dreams


My dreams are not yours.
In the sunkissed field of daffodils
Through which grasshoppers whizz past
With an almost lazy alacrity,
I find myself,
Soaking up to the skin
In optimism which will fall into disuse
Like a snowflake held too long on a warm tongue.



My dreams are not yours.
When the moon lights up my part of the world
And the narrow alleys are bathed
In the pearly hue poets hold dear,
I find myself,
Wondering if the stars feel outshone
And if they twinkle a tad too bright
To tell us they are hurting.



Somewhere down the sleet covered roads
Of moonlit heaven, hell and earth
I realised
My dreams are not yours.
And yours arent mine either.

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