Dreams Poem by pam handa

Dreams are made of tinsel fairy tales,
Told in distant lands o'er hills and dales.
One's subconscious mind they race to embrace,
Yet suddenly they disappear without a trace.
These prisoners on parole are larger than life itself,
No wonder we place them on its top-most shelf.
The compelling power that on us they exert,
Makes humanity long to reality forever desert.
In sorrow they make us see life's varied dimensions;
In joy they take us to ride rosy reflections.
They can make us feel springtime in freezing winter,
Or carry us to the North Pole in the midst of summer.
These radiant birds blatantly lie to one and all
Who often in life's journey are about to fall,
And need to clutch on to their flighty wings,
For all the hope their awesome magic brings.