Pipe Dreams
By John Herlihy

They awaken;
They are alive.
My pipe dreams know nothing of the morning,
They only wish to survive.

They wander;
They scheme.
My pipe dreams take me to places,
That are not what they seem.

They breathe;
They intake.
My pipe dreams expand like colorful balloons,
That keep filling until they break.

They are fire;
They are smoke.
My pipe dreams are for emperors and potentates;
They are not for ordinary folk.

Made of fog;
Made of mist.
My pipe dreams speak of wonders,
As we cling to the lie of their gist.

They whisper;
They foretell.
My pipe dreams float as morning mist,
They cast fortuitously a magic spell.

They flutter;
They shake.
My pipe dreams descend from the heavens,
Like the dust of a snow flake.

They falter;
They disappear.
My pipe dreams are but mist that soon fled,
To reveal the blue of summer’s day instead.