A Poetic Reflection: Whatever Happened To Childhood Dreams

Sometimes I wish I was a child again. Not for the naivety, beguiled innocence, or curtailed independence. What I miss most about my childhood is when my dreams seemed that they could actually be real.

I wish the dreams that I dreamed

and the images that I imagined

could glow as brilliantly, before me

as they do so effortlessly

in my mind

Childhood is so blissful

and romantic fancy is so splendid

Because they dance so perfectly

over the world’s distortions

I long that my life could be as I imagined it could be

Wish reality exists as it does in my dreams

I close my eyes, swallow my tears

And I hope

If I keep imagining

Dream harder

Pray ceaselessly

Hope endlessly



There might come a day

When all the colors

That lit up my girlhood eyes

Will appear before me

Just once

as a woman

So I live in a world of my own making

Create universes that exist only to me

Believe in things too audacious to touch

Have visions of grandeur that never leave my mind

This duplicity of my coexistence

Has been my subsistence

An artist’s reverie

Parallel universes aren’t

Just astronomical, theoretical rhetoric

It is

The essence of me

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4 Responses to A Poetic Reflection: Whatever Happened To Childhood Dreams

  1. Talicha J. says:

    this made me think of my childhood , thanks for sharing!

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