In the sluggish haze of morning I notice a door
which I cautiously approach and find is open.
I pause but can’t resist crossing the threshold.
Ignoring the lump in my throat,
I toss apprehension aside and begin to explore.
I sense I may have already been here,
in another time, another space, another “me”.
Soon I realize this is where I
neatly folded my dreams and packed them away,
finding them easier to forget than to pursue.
I gather up all these hopes and lost ambitions
then tuck them, one by one, into a box I once discarded
by the door. I think how fortunate it is that I stumbled
across them now, at this very moment,
when I need them the most.
I pass back through the door with my box of dreams,
a prized possession I clutch tightly to my chest.
A creak of the door tells me it has closed behind me.
A click of the lock suggests I’ll never be going back.
There is no need—I found my dreams!
This poem “A Box of Dreams” is featured on vox poetica today.
Thank you, vox poetica!