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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