Paul’s piecemeal glory
slogged through
a dread swamp
to harvest
fallen dreams.
But the dreams played
with him
like will-o-wisps
dancing
and dashing about.
He realized
each fallen dream
bonded with a grief
he was loath
to face.
That it was he
who danced
and dashed about—
not the fallen dream
and its fostered glow.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
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