Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Deffered One's Dream


You can or cannot obtain yours.
While the cream of the crop,
stays there, deep down inside.
On the shallow side of your curve.

Hurried off against each morning,
I'm awakened by each swift tug.
Up and down then it's gone.

Carried away by each dream that
you save.
The bag that you dreamed to own.
Left wrinkled,
Written alone.
Brought home in the back of a cab.

Submitted: Thursday, June 27, 2013
Edited: Friday, June 28, 2013

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