Dreams Poem by David Michael Jackson

There are no dreams left
in the dream barrel,
only work to be done and
hope.
Hope will do, to fill a day,
to walk among the words again as if
dropped into clouds, which
wait for me to
fall
silently into the sky
swollen with the tears
of the children
of
war.
Oh, I will fall
in silence
no more.

***

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