Dreams Do Come True
There is a picture
That sits in my closet.
I dare not pull it out--
It reminds me of the truth that
Once was.
Or wasn’t- I cannot be too sure,
I was three, in the land where
Dreams “Come True.”
I suppose it’s possible,
Possible I had a dream.
But I was three, stuck
With two parents who
Loved me.
If only I knew then-
How lucky I was.
There were three of us.
The three musketeers,
That was before She came
Along, then there were more-
More than three, I count four.
That four never lasted,
It became three again-
Mother and I were the same,
It was He and She who played
The Game.
12. Our lucky number.
The day I left the womb-
12, it is-but perhaps it
Means much more
Than this.
If She equals one,
And We are two,
Put us together,
And maybe dreams do
Come true.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.