A Piece of the Dream to Speak of

My little piece of the dream. A poem of hope.

I wanted my little piece of the dream, so I skipped on over to the other scene,

Leaving all that which I ever knew, and all who was familiar too.

And then I got there, I'd arrived this I swear,

But while I was still there, many things I was to hear.

I heard them talking ever so often, talking talks of what makes the place tops.

But I never did get out of the starting blocks. Let alone, out of the rut spots.

But as for them and how they plant. They can do whatever they want,

I sure would like to do that too, but never could find that foot of the shoe.

They never did seemed to work very hard, at least not quite as my playing card.

Yet they say that's what I ought to do, and I obediently did just that too. And then, as for them.

They can just take off on any day, going on a vacation so they say,

Going to wherever, and to do whatever, and whenever, but as for me!

I could never, even though I'd like so much to.

To do what they say that I ought to.

So I work harder, and watch them get richer, and yet I could never.

Get any further, or anything whatsoever, other than debt, and waiting in the wings to come swallow me up and to get, is death.

Even though, he most assuredly knows, that I don't really want to go.

And yet, real they say is the dream. For whom? I’d asked, for them maybe, but as for me,

This dream, it would seem, is not to be.

By, E Lloyd Kelly. the-poet. Just another #poemofthetimes.