Our Dreams, a poem

When are dreams
just dreams –
Cotton candy clouds above our
wondering eyes,
Entirely magical and beyond human touch?

When are they
substantial –
Sand or clay or peanut butter sandwiches,
Taken in hand
and formed to what we wish?

When do they
get taken –
Envied, criticized by
abusing fingers
Whose dreams left long ago?

When are dreams
– just dreams –


And when do we



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©2020 Chel Owens

28 thoughts on “Our Dreams, a poem

  1. Interesting. At first I thought you referred to the sleepy-time, bedtime dreams. But then I thought you referred to our chase-after-goals dreams. And then I wondered does it matter. Your beautiful poem could apply to both.

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