Dreams

Dreams short poem

Photo by colink.


A mist fills my mind,
The smoke of a dream
As she walks and talks
And gives me her hand.

A dream that feels real,
But we know better.
A dream carries you off
But you always come home.

You grasp to hold on
But too tightly and
The dream, like smoke,
Vanishes into the air.

Then you sit and stare,
Will the dream reappear?
It will not come back
But it is always there.

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Randall Smith

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Not from anywhere but from everywhere Germany, Korea, Viet Nam, USA, Army Veteran, Germany 1966-1968, Viet Nam 1968-1969. Two kids and bunch of grandkids. Enjoy my Roses, fishing and card playing. I may not write for several months and then I can not stop for several weeks. I have notebooks with 4 or 5 lines only, waiting for me to return.
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