Mon, 05/08/2023 - 17:21 -- yeah

We are children in a field of dreams.






The floating dreams above us wait.


We watch.


The floating dreams are always just out of reach,


since we are just blades of grass in the field.


We cannot reach that high.


Some of us are taller, though.


They are closer.


The majority of us are shorter.


We are further.


Further from the dreams we want to hold.


Now we're just






The floating dreams above us are watching.


While we wait.


It makes sense, though.


Dreams are dreams, watching us while we wait.





Because dreams are something you can only dream of.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741