My Pocketbook Poem by alan pieterse

In my little pocketbook
full of dreams,
I scribble your name
and draw your smile.
I write of memories
that haven't been.
Here I can laugh
when I should scream.
The covers are torn
and the pages
somewhat smudged
by realities tears
But every day,
the sun rises in my
little pocketbook of dreams
and wishes and fishes
dance to a silly tune
of happy non-excistince
Outside these pages,
outside this book,
life shrinks,
and anger pollutes,
So I scribble a while more,
writing of a life
that hasn't been,
of meeting people,
I haven't seen.