His Dream Is My Dream Poem by mikal crawford

He leans back from his desk
Rubs the back of his neck, the stress takes effect
Grips the bridge of his noise
Squints while he's showing emotion he normally won't
At 56, he re-evaluates
Possibly regretting some decisions that he's made
Black is turning grey, patches of his age
Reflecting from the glasses of passive of every page
Passionately Dave reads, reading on occasion
Dreaming of the day when he can do the same thing
He's always wanted to write, that's all he's wanted in life
With two daughters, a son and a remarkable wife
He's in a bind, he has to provide
A family is relying on a millie to survive
His father died at 56
So he's well aware how vital a father figure is
How big of a responsibility it is
To be a good husband and care for your kids
Never miss an event, helping them with their homework
Discipline to prevent things when they're older
His only son is only 21
And focus as a poet has only just begun
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream


(7/14/2011)