The things to leave

have you tallied the gains and losses?

What to dream?
What to seem to be as the impossibilities fly by,
Perhaps to ride the tide of sunshine,
Or chase the shades of the moon?

Too soon, with shame and poison placated,
And later debated of magics lost,
A cost too dear to monetize,
for lies too thin to measure;

Such treasure was mine, and mine,
And time was but an hourglass,
Spilling to the last on a forgotten windowsill,
Before the splendor of the clouds;

And what, per say, was it traded away for?
What big-boy splendors settle this score?
A dismal life of boring evenings?
A thousand work shirts frayed at the seams?

My dreams, were more vivid and flavorful
Than any mix you could pour in that glass,
And half an hour was half a lifetime as king
Of the popsickle-stick people,
Who were deeper and more insightful,
Than your drunk-girl conversations.

The sensations of your skin beneath my hands,
Gives me chills,
Because it is smooth and limitless,
Like the sand of any desert of imagining,
Now hot and bare and empty,
But still exhilarating in a half-forgotten glimpse.

Author's Note

for the spoken word experience, you can watch this poem being read by myself on Youtube, available @

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkONDiPBmLs&feature=youtu.be

Reviews

[SHEEMA HUQ]

would it not be great if we were given an option as to what we could dream, so I really liked the opening line, there is a rich honesty about your words