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A Dreamers Poem

A poem about being working class and daring to have big dreams.

By HC ValentinePublished 4 months ago Updated 4 months ago 2 min read
Daydreaming Peasant Lady

She's seen them in the rows

In all their pretty clothes

Their hair is always styled and shining

And all of their fine jewels

Their grimaces at fools

For an impossible dream she is trying

And she stares at their new cars

Like children gaze up at the stars

And her heart fills with longing and wonder

Could she ever be like them?

Even if it was pretend?

Happy in her head but outside, thunder

And her clothes are hand me downs

And some lipstick that she found

For the men in the suits and the bow ties

They don't give her a second look

If only they understood

That she's one of them on the inside

In all their glittering gowns

On the other side of town

While she walks home to her mother

And she dreams of holding hands

With a fine dressed gentleman

But that life is reserved for the others

They're all Kings and Queens

And all she has are dreams

She wasn't born to live that life

She was born to serve

People who don't see her worth

And eventually become a mother and a wife

As she grows older, she accepts

That her life is filled with debt

When all the kids have grown and left home

She wonders who she could have been

All those people on the screens

But now her dreams are dead and she's alone

And they're still dancing at their balls

In giant mansion halls

Not one of them batted an eyelid

At the little girl in rags

Whose upbringing held her back

Oh, how I wish I was again that kid

What it must feel like to be loved

By a world that is so tough

Where thousands of stranger's flock to see you

And to use the voice that you were given

To free them from their prisons

And to be a part of the few

It's not for us all

Some of us are meek and small

And no matter what we do our dreams are too high

And it's a crying shame

The little girl never found fame

And that hard work doesn't always mean you'll fly

It's not 'what' but 'who' you know

That makes your story glow

Like a million flames in the night sky

I guess she'll never know

Who to talk to, who to hold

She was left out in the cold

Another extra in their shows

Another passer-by

I've seen them in the rows

In all their finest clothes

Rolling their eyes as they walk by

I wasn't given the tools

Or sent to prestigious schools

Just told to do my best until I die

celebritiessad poetry

About the Creator

HC Valentine

Have been writing since I was a kid. Won several awards for my writing as a child and an adult. Also a singer and songwriter.

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