The house of crumbled wishes
sits a far piece down the road
from the field of broken dreams.
One, an architectural structure
of our own choosing, where fads
and fashions are delivered
daily,
only to be pulverized
by unseen winds
blustering their harsh reality
through every open window.
The other, hardscrabble ground
plowed over and over
behind the mule of desire,
praying for rain, season after
season,
with little more than sweat
stains
and blisters to show.
But sometimes, it's hard to tell
exactly where you are
in any given moment,
'cause hope has a way
of winging so much
of our hearts that we
forget we can't fly.
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| Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney |
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