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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2130894
Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #2130894
For the kids who dream of better worlds.
The paper seller in her store
Of washed-out windows, nothing more
Than hope for love
And an "OPEN" sign that only dreams of
Neon slugs and happy lands
Rooftops barely known to man
Where firework bombs soar
Our heroes off to duty once more

If only you could dream as well
If only your mind wouldn't swell
If only youth could live like I do

The paper seller lives alone
On golden books and silver thrones
But modern ideals
She spends five dollars to quell
And dreams of ventures of the like
With villains vanquished by her might
A world of her own
To rid her of this suburban home

If only she could really tell
She dreams of death and time in hell
A delusion to try and live just like you

A childish dream for kids of burden
Paper's green for coloured tales, then
Spends her soul on characters
For other souls would scream at her
Enamoured with the impossible
Frightened by anything probable
Desensitized into fantasy
A dreaming youth for a dying mind

Little wonder, where did your heart go?
Wander where the universe follows
It won't love you back

The paper seller in my store
She speaks so bright and does her chores
Of love's labor laws
But always deems herself so flawed
We're lost in art and choose to be
Untroubled by lover's amity
Our dame, caught in whirlwinds
With the likes of people unlike me

If only I could tell her so
There lays a book I wish I wrote
Of humans loving ordinarily.
© Copyright 2017 Vinnie Faraday (vinniefaraday at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2130894