Dreams

Are like smoke, they travel slowly upward

permeating the air, occupying ones mind

like an itch you can’t scratch. Digs hole in your head

seeping through your fingers, slipping through

every crack of your jean pocket.

Sits on the chair in ones living room, stays there

until one tries to grasp it, try and grasp it and it will magically disappear.

Dreams Sometimes we struggle to find the meaing of our dreams or to grasp it and make it a reality. -justme62

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