![]() WE WERE19, ONCEA Poem by VolIn the days when dreams were not dreams, the dark beneath manicured shrubs in manicured lines waited almost patiently for us.
The air we carried was buoyant and colored like Jacob’s coat, so we floated on dreams that were not dreams. We did not know the rules, or that soon we would see our gnawed fingernails and the crushed gravel under our bleeding feet in a wide tomorrow where the dreams never were.
Funny how the Rock-N-Roll still sounds the same, and we mistake our wings for legs when we dance to the music of our dreams that weren't dreams.
I'm not ready for this, never was for much more than the feel of you, my silver spoon, so I'll kiss the feathered hairs at the nape of your neck and whisper, "please, my love; a little longer... for my dream." © 2025 VolFeatured Review
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Added on March 23, 2025Last Updated on March 25, 2025 Author![]() VolGouge Eye, TXAboutMy name is Vol Lindsey. I live in Gouge Eye, Texas, a tiny ghost town on Rt. 66. I am a retired creative writing, English literature teacher. I have been writing poetry and reading publicly since 196.. more..Writing
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