You who once were a girl
Who loved so much,
But couldn't fix the broken ones
who couldn't love you back well.
The one a bit jaded by reality,
And her inability to reach "perfection",
Who was attracted to a dreamer
Because he reminded you
Of who you once were.
Who irritated your daughter
With her head in the clouds,
The daughter who called you "dream stomper."
I see now that a more accurate term
Is "reality speaker."
I see a strong person,
Taming wild hopes with grey hairs;
a wrangler of half-truths:
tying them back together into fact.
I want to hug the girl you were
Until the cracks in your heart
all squeeze back together.
But I'm not made to do that.
To be able to show you
bigger and better things than you dared to dream that will come;
dreams after sleep mirror "dreams" after "sleep."
To say, maybe we have bigger dreams than our brains can hold because
We are not made for here.
Here you traded dreams for practicality.
One day the practical will exchange places with the dream.
