Through Poetic Eyes

Dreams cascade like stolen petals, plucked to smell the morning then dropped to the terrain to fade. Close the gate and chase the number 1 to town. Rush to clock in while forgetting the wilting raindrop. Reality takes over and shrieks like a dragon, burning every fairytale away.

Let's view this with poetic eyes, nobody has to know. The smears on the glass are blurring the etches we made that spell out 'imagine'.

The sun tucks you in with a black blanket covered in bright spies. Everyone's watching but don't stir. Behind the door we are less than safe but alone. Hallways are varnished to reflect our white collars. (Well don't you look special!) Tomorrow we'll look ahead to an emerald dawn and reach deeper into the day.

We were point five and told we could be, in a limitless world where anything is possible, (until you're eighteen) is written is small print! Then you wake up in someone else's dream and lose all sight of the scratches we made on bedposts with playful hands that turn into artificial tools. Let's leave the industry and get back what was promised.

Written by Chris Yeoman - 2003