THE MAN WITHOUT A DREAM


Shallow and cold as a stream a man without a dream
Sitting upon a pedestal better than the rest of all us dream weavers.
We plant the dreams of our tomorrows
And get chipped nails and soiled hands from our labors.
He stands on rich black dirt doesn't have to change his shirt.
Put his brain in place of his brawn and lived his whole life knowing
Right from wrong!
He saw the black and white never saw the gray in things.
Never had to give up or fight.
Worked hard but forgot how to play.
Bought a house and raised a family.
This man without a dream could only see yesterday
He couldn't see tomorrow. This man of power
Always wanting to control. He knew what it was like to possess
The material things but his life was empty.
He had no dreams
Shallow and cold like the stream running through him.
No compassion in his soul.
Where will you go when your stream runs dry?
Who will then wipe the tears from your eyes?
When will you search deep within your soul?
Tell me now where do the years go?
I see you as a lonely man with all your dignity.
Sometimes I see you reaching out to me.
But you are distant from me now.
And I have more fields to plow.
Perhaps you'll plant a seed or two.
And I'll even watch them grow for you.
But your heart has grown shallow as the stream runs through it.
And you untouchable now there on your pedestal
I bow to you with dignity.
But I wouldn't trade all the dreams in the world
No not give up a single one.
For fear my heart too will dry up.
And I might become just like you
The woman without dreams!

Eva Marie Ann Dunlap © 2003

All poetry Copyright Eva Marie Ann Dunlap

and may not be copied without her permission.

Graphics By Perfsworld.