Dreams Poem by Morgan Michaels

I know you want the best for me-
and with a generosity that's hardly modern,
a selflessness that vanished long ago
like footprints in a snowy alley
when the wind blows in more snow.
I know you want to make my dreams come true-
poor me, poor you.

For my dreams, I'm warning you,
are like the traffic lights on Broadway
in the dark: blinking red, green and yellow,
some, red, for stop, some, green, for go,
but yellow, most, for 'take it slow.'
For 'prepare to stop.'
I just wanted you to know.

Yeh, I've had a few come true-
a few-no more than my share.
As many as I could pocket.
Sure, there couldbe more,
but, dreams are costly,
as you who've yet to find yours
may come to know.