I am not a poet and I know it, but I was inspired at the time and I hope this inspires someone..Tired of searching for a dream
scrabbling for a distant star
everything seems so far and yet
the dream is rising like
curdled cream in coffee.
Every agonizing year, I feel
its presence, sometimes I
touch its burning heat and feel
the bite, yet only for a moment
Blowing in the breeze like a tired
flag, I am looking for the
wind to direct my focus
Tired of changing direction
to all the new writers trying to get published..dare to dream, so that others may as well..
[This message has been edited by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (edited October 14, 2006).]