The Dreamer 
By Dominic Knighten

I’ve dreamed on steps shared by many.
Porches slept on by few.
Seats occupied by peers,
spanned by time.

I’ve dreamed on beaches where the sun never sets.
Swings forever moved by the wind.
Casting stones with force.
Skipping for eternity.

I’ve dreamed on nights before cafeteria meals.
When connections leaped into a new age.
On courts where shots both sank and fell.
On benches where hopes perished.

I’ve dreamed on stages that pointed me in no direction.
In view of all who cared,
but failed to hear, or
catch this dreamer’s Hail Mary.

I’ve dreamed with feet striking the cement.
The flash of navy
and badge.
A dreamer’s fear.

I’ve dreamed with
hands in the air.
A face to the ground.
The cold pavement was a warm embrace.

I’ve dreamed through bottles.
A chasm where I’ve imagined there to be an end.
Torches lead deeper into the unknown.
Dreams left unanswered, like the call that November night:

“Dad since things are getting rough here,
I thought maybe I could  start fresh, and
possibly live with you?”
“I’m sorry son, but I can’t.”

I’ve dreamed on ears with understanding.
Couches that have held much weight.
Behind glasses and notepads.
Lost ideas that never seem to find a way.

Then I awake to find
life has changed.
I’ve dreamed into a world
far from where I imagined.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment son,
of your small hand,
holding mine for the first time,
and our eyes finally meet.”

I’ve now dreamed in new life.
Comforted by this gentle hand.
Youth circling in my own mind.
Leading into a new age.

I’ve dreamed into new worlds.
Circles that promote.
Accolades to show success.
Yet still this dreamer dreams.

I dream knowing that I’ll always dream.
What’s inspired the moment of a thought
will likely serve as the pain in death.
For some dreams were never brought to life.