adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Reach

All my dreams, stacked up,
never reach far enough.
The star atop the Christmas
tree, when I was small,

sang beyond my grasp.
My heart yearned to hold,
to keep it for myself--
so many other stars since,

so many elusive stars.
My arms and my dreams
have grown tired; I'll reach
so far no more...ha,

until tomorrow night
when more stars fill my skies.

Stephen Brooke ©2004

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