Wherein lies dreams allowed to fly.
Dreams tethered not to posts or tacked to boards,
but adorned with wings of thought and whimsy.
Slashed with ragged jagged electric arrows
through billowed tortured clouds black and opaque.
Dreams torn apart but not disintegrated.
Wherein colors temper dreams pink and orange
and bright yellow at dawn only to repeat at dusk.
Cerulean and Indigo and Ultramarine are
the blues of daytime hopes.
Draped and shuttered and made to sleep
when the mantle of night gently falls.
Dreams darkened but not extinguished.
Wherein Sol burnishes light that can’t be seen
Dreams become gold and precious and more valuable.
Subatomic crashes morph one into another
yet maintain internal integrity.
It is the glasses purposely shaded that
hide dreams from their maker who pretends they are forgotten.
Until it is remembered that dreams fly,
adorned with wings of thought and whimsy.
--original poem by Linda C Smith