You've but to push your fist through mist and
haze to penertrate the clouds. They are an easier
mark for the dreamer, than aeroplanes.
The man whos's dead to dreaming lives within a cloud
of his own making and so his chance of entering the
stratosphere is scant. I close my eyes to dreaming,
only long enough to dream.
By Rod McKuen (we touch the sky)
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Very cleaver writing. Lovely piece. 🤗❤️
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