Death of a Dream-First Draft

Death of Dream

Slowly my body

crumples. Autumn creates

creaky bones. Arms lay

limp, aches

accelerate. I arise from bed

take a gulp of water, attempt to

touch my toes. As I age, my body

perceives seasons. My body is slowly

dying.

In summer, I remember barefeet,

around the world basketball, sticky

hands from ice cream. A world where

Candyland seemed real. The season

where my right foot launched from a 9 in.

board, propelling my legs forward

fourteen feet, landing triumphantly

in the sand.

Winter is coming

soon. Hibernation and hot

chocolate. Warmth lingers

by sitting still, pondering this

perennial season.

I wrote this poem as I leave teaching as a profession, as I grieve my daily body’s weariness, as I daily grieve dreams left unrealized. Yet daily and slowly I’m learning to sit and feel the warmth that winter does bring, even if I only realize it later.

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