(Photo by Jaime Street on Unsplash)

I watch as warm winds whisk away my dreams

setting sail in scarlet sky, shall they bloom?

Or will they become lost in the breeze

like seeds floating into late afternoon?

One by one my dreams dance away from me,

searching for sustenance, some soil to root.

My chest grows heavy though, as doubts take root:

What if I have unattainable dreams?

What if there’s nothing great inside of me,

no salient seed from which I can bloom?

I allow this to eat at me all afternoon…

Life is not a thing through which I can breeze,

and sitting stagnant has begun rotting my roots.

Why waste wishes on weeds each afternoon,

when I want more than those dandelion dreams?

A revelation washes over me!

I crave growth I won’t find riding the breeze,

waiting on wishes won’t help me bloom…

Life allots only numbered afternoons,

I won’t allow fear another from me.

Could this be me beginning to bloom?

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