castle of her revolving dreams


once there was just a single old
well-cushioned bed, what the small
family had, where only one fitted in

Mother slept there through the nights
after a day full of making family bricks
Father was there in it at late afternoons
soon after his cementing run-arounds
And, finally their dreamyeyed daughter
only ever thought of getting over there
She but harvested dreams in daily rags

She grew up, still to be dreamy mother
Suncentred dreams never a realization
Just revolving around her own castle
in airy frames?


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