She read of such things;
Dreamed a lot of swimming
Flying, floating away
To some far off place.
That other place would be different
She could find her true love
Get a life all her own
Live the ‘happily-ever-after’.
But she never learned to drive a car
Much less drive her dreams;
Any real hope remains
A small chest on the dresser
Covered in years of dust
And wishful thinking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem