Poems

There are some that dream of flying, And others dream of sheep But when I close my eyes, all that I see Is an imaginary orchestra Directed by me The sounds wash over me Like a soothing spring breeze The violins swaying like willow trees My arms sway and the music swells Crescendoing to a distant tale Of love and loss and loneliness That the audience can feel Then I open up my eyes And I’m still in my room Four walls a cage that I want to break through Someday I hope I’ll see