It’s a mockingdream
Not quite
Not quite
It calls
From branches swirled in mist
An almost gathered wish
A yearning still within
Insists things could have been
Why not
Why not
Implores my heart
But dreams are such
And clutch at visions of the vast
Imperfect past
And mimic me
In my desire
Almost
Almost
I reach
I reach
My mockingdream
Flies higher




Sara Mathews     February 2016