Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

A Dreamer Not a Realist

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I said, “We should run away, into the woods! Imagine us:
surrounded by towering trees sporting thick limbs right and left.
When a storm is coming they sway in the wind of impending rain.
And their fruiting leaves will keep us safe.”

He touches my lips and I am silenced when he argues,
“What happens to us when the strong storm snaps those trees in half? And
they come tumbling down? The life you crave is one of uncertainty,”
he whispers my name as if I am smaller than he, “You mustn’t thrive on danger.”

But danger? What danger exists in uncertainty? I ponder the
uncertainty of a life lived confined within a box of wooden squares:.
inexistent. Dangerous.
“I fear only the danger of limitation.”

He says I am ignorant, a dreamer not a realist. I don’t see the
problem in this, but the way he stirs milk into his
coffee exposes his
disapproval.

Silly, silly girl, he thinks.
I smile and
inside my silly, silly head,
I dream.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback