Stuff Of Dreams - Poem by Patti Masterman
The dresser has gone away-
The altar of my younger self
Resides elsewhere now;
It wasn’t worth enough money
To make it worth keeping.
It took up too much space,
And the finish was imperfect.
Who has not watched their own mother
At her dresser, fixing her hair
And face, performing magic there-
The stuff of dreams abides
In mothers dresser;
Even if it is empty,
And the dreams are old,
Even if it lives somewhere else now.
Comments about Stuff Of Dreams by Patti Masterman
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You