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Dreams

Dreams,
We always chase,
But somehow they seem to erase.
We think about them daily
how ever we want them to come true
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
Are dreams are there somewhere
we just have to look real close
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POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
It came to mind after having a dream about being a culinary chef which is in my future :)
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6/18/2021 7:31:02 PM # 1.0.0.631