Hidden.

There is this dream, but I’ve hidden it
in the back of the dream cupboard.
way up on the top shelf.

I can’t describe it, I never give it voice.
I know it’s there still, it haunts me.
Taunting, daring me to pull it out.

Every now and then it hitches a ride
on a new dream and waves hello
from some obscure corner of my mind.

Sometimes I see glimpses of it
hiding in the eyes of others.
or hear it’s whisper in a laugh.

Hidden though it is, I’m always searching.
Not for the dream you know, I search
for that from which this dream was born.

That all I have is this dream, empties my heart.
The heart that leapt that day, so long ago.
The one that still hopes, the one that broke.

Francis de Aguilar©2015

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