Dream Number 3 (Hope) Poem by Smoky Hoss

Row, row, row your mind
gently to the end of your dreams,
turn and look back
and try to comprehend what it all means

Wild waves slap the innocent shore
then effect a hasty retreat;
the sun and moon witness it all
but refuse to speak

A bird on a high wire
that no one understands,
watches shiny carousel horses running circles
in the shifting sands

So many delicate dreams
turn out blue;
perhaps the greatest one someday
shall come true