A hopeless and optomistic dreamer I
Raise my champagne glass up high
To toast the coming year.
Maybe I won't make the same mistakes
Or break the promises I never made
To those who swear I swore,
But I don't remember any more.
A chronic and procrastinating dreamer I
Gaze out at the somewhat cloudy sky
To find my destiny there.
Maybe if I could just play the game
From start with zero points
For once as I was getting going,
And I'd get ahead and not be owing.
An exhausted, underestimating dreamer I
Sometimes find I've bit off quite
The challenging buffet. What can I say?
Maybe this will be the meal
That satisfies without the consequential
Calories or price, and dessert for free.
This could be the time...maybe.
Caren E. Salas
photo by William Salas
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