Anton's Glosa

If Only it was a Dream

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Dreams - Langston Hughes

My son is still young

He asks me many questions

I wish he wouldn’t

I wish I had his view still

All the answers

They are the beams

To the cathedral of curiosity

And I the monstrosity

It begins ripping at the seams

Hold fast to dreams

He is older now

But still holds my hand

I wish he wouldn’t

If beauty never appeared

Would we miss it when it left?

I think about my little guy

And his little hand

And if I could stand

If I ever had to say goodbye

For if dreams die

I am a man full of regret

My son reminds me

I wish he wouldn’t

He lives the life I lived

No complaints and yet

The pain needn’t be heard

I know I failed my son

With the deeds I’ve done

And how he hung onto every word

Life is a broken-winged bird

My son is grown and gone

Made a life somewhere far away

I once wished he would

A son of his own

His wishes and hopes

And though he may try

To excuse me for my blunders

I hope there are many wonders

For his own little guy

That cannot fly.

Anton Paszek