I was making it
My dream
was working
I had mojo then
wanting to live from poems
that came endlessly
I bet my early years on writing
Saw many reading and buying
the books in bookstores, card shops
and college stores
Letters arrived almost daily
sharing poems and including photos
Ten books in stores
and more waiting to publish
then sales slowed
Reality knocked
for rent, gasoline
car repairs
and food
When I began my dream
life was easy
and affordable
I was to surviving
Then someone changed the
life’s price tag . . .
I had to work
and put my dreams on hold
Recently I opened
forgotten boxes of poems
in my attic
For days I look at the sky
and clouds like I used to
wondering
can I become excited again
I didn’t see my dreams
in the sky anymore