The Dream

Things were simple.

When I was younger,

I wanted to be a

teacher,

astronaut,

scientist.

 

Religion was a second nature,

where my sins were seen as tally marks,

that only met the eye.

School was my playground.

musicals

scripts

piles of books,

My own intellect.

 

When I was younger, everything was different.

Destined to be a performer,

The stage was my painting,

Creating my own artistry,

My own home.

 

But now I am older.

I learned the kindness of strangers,

a smile can mean much more

then a simple gesture.

People are temporary,

and will come into your life

only to teach lessons,

then fade away.

 

But now I am older,

Like a tree,

my roots have grown

extending into many directions.

Creating a trunk of stability.

With branches that hold

my leaves.

My own dreams.

 

I am older.

Innocence has turned into experience.

Childhood into adolescence.

Memories into philosophies.

Imagination into over thinking.

Home into migration.

Nightmares into dreams

And we said that we would never grow up...

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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