Poetry from the Generations 

Sweet Dreams
by Velma M. Carlson

A “lonely heart” and a lonely mind
And I think of Clare all the time.
I try to smile when I think of him.
Then the teardrops start, and my
Eyes grow dim.
I think at night when I go to bed,
Of the many lonely years ahead.
Then in my dreams I’m so happy
And glad.
But when I awake, I am – Oh, so sad...
What is a dream? Who knows and
Who cares?
For when we awake there is just
Nothing there.
It’s always so real when in deep
Slumber.
But sometimes it seems I just
Can’t remember.
Still I’m  happy to dream.
It’s all I have now.
For those fast, fleeting moments
I love them somehow.

1987  

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