The Room

He kept his dreams
Inside a locked room:
The old ones
And the new ones,
Daring ones
And simple ones,
Shiny ones
And ones made up of
Stars and flight.

He loved
Visiting
And revisiting them all,
Waiting for the
Perfect moment
To make something
Out of them,
To weave them into
The tapestry of reality.

He waited
And waited
Still
The perfect moment
Refused to arrive.

“Someday…”

And the dreams grew
In number
And the dreams
Waited.

The perfect moment’s
Just ’round the corner…