It is not something that falls from the sky.
It is not a nightly dream either.
It’s not like a baby carried by a stork.
It’s not a hand-out.
It shows by the calluses on the palms of his hands
and the blisters on the soles of his feet
The American Dream is real;
he can feel it in the freezing winters
and scorching summers.
He feels it in the destructive winds of fall
and the fruitful fields of spring.
He can feel the dream from dawn to dusk.
He feels the dream seven days a week.
He knows the American Dream is real.
He lives the dream?
Do you?
Poem was first published in: Stepping Stones: Journal to Recovery from Stroke and Brain Injury, 2016.
Copyright @2016mrg


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