Poem
I often dream of windswept plains Of places never existing Of People never seen, never heard, never felt And the nostalgia hits like the gentle breeze of a hurricane Although I have never been, never experienced, never lived I dream of a place Where my own hard work leads to accomplishments, not failure, where my windfalls are not a byproduct of someone else’s gust. But I know when I wake My dreams will sadly never be drifting away in my mind taking its place on the plain where time and space don’t exist, where my dreams go to die - fin Lorin Bucur
20
