Drip….Drip….Drip….

poetry

In desperate times we strive,
to reach for the stars,
when we know all we can do is touch the ceiling,
touch the popcorn walls,
with buttery fingers our dreams slip,
slide,
we have no grasp,
just an idea of a dream,
a dream of an idea,
idyllic imaginations,
reach, reach,
rise, rise,
these dreams are melting,
faltering,
d
r
i
p
s
y
d
r
o
p
s
y
place my cup underneath the falls,
sip from the chalice,
and open up these walls,
a toast to dreams,
here’s to the forgotten…

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