(untitled #10) Poem by bob barci

Leaning towards
a favorite dream,
I am reaching out, for
a brighter light, a better way.
Long before the dark catches up,
the light of day should shine on
at least one dream.
Holding on
to something I'm not sure of, and
reaching for,
something I can't touch.
Longing for
things that can't be mine.
Will it ever, I ask of you,
will it ever be easy?
Always leaning and reaching.
Forever holding and longing.
When will it get easier?