dreams are surprsingly durable
though forgotten, they will lie like dry seeds buried in desert sands,waiting
a dream may appear fragile and lifeless
but inside the parched husk waits lush creative potential
we sometimes forget these old dreams of ours
but they do not forget us
spring rains arrive at last,following the hard years of drought and our dead dreams sprout most unexpectedly
we are filled with delight to see their long-forgotten shape
to breathe their fragrance again
we wonder at our carelessness in forgotting
today
i will visit my garden of forgotten deams...
and bring a watering can.