Skip to content

The Dream Begins

11/05/2008

In the early 1970’s, along with some protest poems, I wrote a simple little piece called the Dream. I would like to share it with you now, for this day, November 5th, 2008, is a part of that “dream.”

Pardon me,
I really don’t mean to disturb,
But have you seen my dream?
You see, I’ve lost it
And well, maybe you might know where it’s gone.

Please, don’t leave.
It might not seem important
And yes, it was a child’s dream
But men need to hold onto a part of their childhood.

What?
Find another dream.
No. I couldn’t do that.
You see, the others been with me for a long time.
Its been a faithful friend in times of despair,
A comfort when lonely,
So a new dream wouldn’t be the same.

Yes, I dream’t many things as a child
But this one, well it’s special
And I want to find it again,
For you see,
I need the dream and the dream needs me.

You’re right,
Dreams are just illusions.
But reality is built on many peoples dreams,
Illusions cemented together by a union
Of hard work; want; faith; love
And ignited in the heart
By a child’s dream.

You tell me to find a new dream.
No. For mine was unique and it was mine.
One of the few original parts
Of my spirit and being.

You can tell me that it was age,
Or when we grow-up we leave behind the youthful innocence,
But I’ll search on
And maybe in the near future,
I’ll round the corner,
And there with out stretched hands
Will be an old friend,
My dream, Smiling and asking,
“Where did you go?
I’ve been here all the time,
Waiting for you.”

2 Comments leave one →
  1. 11/05/2008 10:42 am

    Tristan, you almost, this time, caused me to wish I had not visited and read this particular poem because … there are those dreams that really do get lost in the murky depths of ‘old age’. I had a dream from childhood. . . a horse of my own. For a few, all too briefs months, occasionally a year of two, I owned that dream. My dream was not so much lost as wrested from me, several times. Long before my 88 years, I was forced to accept the fact: some dreams do not return. The hurt remains but one learns to live with it.

  2. Debbie permalink
    11/05/2008 1:06 pm

    I like that.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: