On the Edge of a Pure Day Dream

If your eyes could speak,

they would recite a river

of utter nonsense, and yet

the well rehearsed itinerary

would make perfect sense to some,

the blessed few who notice

effigies beyond the grasp

of eye sockets, while the remainder

do not know happiness like you and I,

and all of those

who make up our compatriots.

I could fly to the moon

on your bubbly attitude

and catch a glimmer of the sun

in my hand, but even so, nothing

would dare stay like words published

on the page, unless your refusal

to remain connected is brought

to a close. When this truth breaks

the cover of clouds and fills my cup

with the dew of the opening morn,

I will look upon the dawn and the dusk

and contemplate that even on days

when happiness is little else

than a spark of hope on my finger,

you remain so animated

on the edge of a pure day dream.

Derek Childs, 11/11/14


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