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Bad dreams

Hold fast to dreams, they say.
For if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.

But somehow she tried every night to stay awake to keep away from those dreams.
Some days the waves get her and on others a shadow screams.

She did her little prayer and filled her heart with gratitude.
But then into the night, her fears came haunting, breaking her fortitude.

Like children bring their broken toys to mend,
she surrendered it all to God and turned to her friend.

Tell me, she said.
About the journeys they’d make, places they’d live.
About the children they’d have, the home they’d build. 

 But he didn’t tell because he didn’t know it yet.
We’ll see it as it comes he said instead.

But it wasn’t until the bad dreams took her that he understood; 
she didn’t need the home or the journeys;
she only needed a beautiful dream to hold on to. 





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