Younger our dreams, our hopes were right there …
like our breath on a cold, still January morning
weightlessly suspended in the thin air – reaching out we touched them
charging up the hill chasing them down
without hesitation, fearlessly, recklessly in abandon
always seeing our self in the top spot, never envisioned second or third
what happened to all of that anyway
standing here now our dreams as if a kite on a taught thin string, feeling the pull
now half a step ahead of winter, letting loose our grasp our dreams fluttering to the ground
quiet thoughts of our greatness used to consume us, they were us
lately things are somehow different, life endlessly getting in our way
but, what of that dream of ours
you know __ that special dream we keep down in the quiet . . . that one we dared but whisper
it’s that dream for which we shall always carry a corner of hope
sliding in sideways at the last second to the grave
just the thought of it still tingles
but life slowly grinds our dreams away, us away, making a joke of our promises
hold up, we quietly scream
if it were so easy we would have gotten it done
maybe we just didn’t quite know how, how to do it, how to make it all fit
carefully we defined, refined our reasons for our perfect excuses
I say to you this, “I don’t believe it and I never will.”
but, it doesn’t matter what I believe
only what you believe – the story we tell ourselves in the quiet.
if we don’t think we can – we won’t
NOW, very softly I say to you, “Please make no mistake …
that dream of yours,
oh, it will get done alright,
but by someone else,
someone else living your dream,
wearing your smiles,
as the littlest of yellow butterflies swoop, then glide.”
The best of us was always our hopes and dreams!