Dreamers Dream

If one stops and thinks about a world where dreaming wasn’t but tomorrow’s reality to grow by, what would life be like? (Image by caras ionut)

Dreamers Dream
                          by Odin Roark

Tulsa’s hard times made the decision easy.

Shouldering backpacks and bedrolls,
Tin cups tied atop
Ready for campfire and bean feasts
With hopefully a moss covered log as pillow,
They took up positions on their dreary piece of road.

New York bound dreamers these.
He confident,
She ashamed for thumbing a stranger,
Bringing a truck to stop and speed them away
From barren lands and dead-end streets,
Trusting their past of gravel and dust laden roads,
Leafless bushes and trees,
Their limbs and branches from parched roots,
Giving but reminders of it all,
The emptiness of nothing.

But now…

Hitching a ride to where liquid gold flowed,
Where paved roads knew no end,
Where visions were realized,
And shade from castles in the air
Were there for the taking.

She’d wait tables,
He’d sweep floors on Wall Street,
But only ‘til she was a star,
And he earned his hustler of hustlers merit.

They’d buy a shiny car,
Bright red and big as a hearse,
Maybe even drive it back to Tulsa,
Where upon their return to the east,
They'd return the favor of long ago,
Pick up a hitcher heading their way,
Even if they were only driving a clunker,
Finding out the real way,
Dreams don’t always work out.

Still…

Dreamers must keep on dreaming,
Even when things don’t go their way,
Otherwise…

Exactly.