When Dreams Die Poem by Clive McDonald

What is a dream, but a persistent whim?
It's a flight of fancy which flits and whirls
But returns to try to assert its will
A paper tiger, which by sheer resolve
Presses itself against the seat of folly
Who dreams? Who? But the ridiculous fool
An unstable man, always looking for
The riches, fame, or friend he doesn't have
I, for one, will let them die, dreams do die
And above all, I won't be ridiculous.