I carry cities in my pockets of sleep,
Blueprints sketched in the margins of night.
While clocks insist on borders and hours,
I wander past them, barefoot, unafraid.
My hopes are kites stitched from almosts and maybes,
Tugging hard at the hands of tomorrow.
Even when daylight calls it foolish,
I keep planting stars in ordinary soil,
Because dreaming is how I breathe.
Thursday Inspiration #310 Oh Sherrie – A Unique Title For Me
Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting to my posts. It is very appreciated.
I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD. Therapy can be very expensive.
If you feel like donating to my fund you can donate using pay pal. My pay pal email for donating is:
Don’t feel you have to, there is no pressure, but I’m grateful for any donations that are received.
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