I believe in the dreams of children
The most beautiful
The most perfect innocent and pure
Many have told me to let them go
Never have I, and never will I
Simplicity and beauty are powerful things
Not to be trifled with by any man
You can call me a free spirit
Call me whatever you wish
But I know I shall be a dream
Never to be touched
For I live in the place of love
Not the love of a man
But the love of dirt and trees
My dreams are those of gardens with barefoot children
Soil beneath my fingers and hay flecks in my hair
Laundry hanging on the line on a warm summer day
Not of men, for men appear for a time and leave
Rough hands from hard labor appeal to me
These are a woman’s hands, my hands
To do things on my own and know that I can accomplish what is needed
Only once has a man ever dared enter this dream
To come for a time then promptly leave
As men are quite apt to do
Leaving behind an old pair of slippers
A newspaper, the smell of soap
And a certain smile on my face
That which disappears once again
Never have dreams mixed blended or fused
Tell me to let go and I shall hold on tighter
Try and crush my spirit and leave me empty
And I shall fight back all the harder
I fought for what I wanted and lost it
A fearsome fight never to be duplicated
Never will I let something so precious slip away
You believed, or made yourself believe, that you had me
Held me in your hand and watched me dance
Didn’t you know that a spirit cannot be captured, but so easily crushed?
Who were you to try and take that from me?
I shall not be captured, not be touched
I extend my hand to you in friendship
No man enters my dream.
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