Dear dreams of mine,
You are as fickle as the changing seasons,
Why won’t you do as I reason?
I want to fly across skies and blue mountains,
I want to jump over pine treetops and chase lions,
I want to have the power of a hundred warriors in my fist,
I want to discover floating islands and see if mermaids exist.
And yet here you are,
Over years beyond time thus far,
Making me sweat over homework with words I can barely see,
And making my scary 5th grade teacher glare death lasers at me,
And having my first day of college a scheduling disaster,
By making its campus the size of Manchester.
Once in a while you gift me a rare cerebral brew,
By allowing me lucid in a dream or two,
Once, I floated free, weightless,
Twice, a second of awareness.
But nevermind that,
I appreciate my green cat,
But If only we could record those—I’d say amen,
How fun it would be to watch again,
I swear if could show those little gems,
Box office hits I could make out of them.
Your bitter cranberry,