Sequence of a Dream


My youth
Like a lake of good ideas
Each one eagerly sparkling in the spring-time sun
Calling out to me with utmost impatience
Making it hard for me to find my focus
A patch of green where I can rest
Next to the flowerbeds underneath the window
Counting my thoughts like they were marbles
And not the sequence of a dream
Putting them in my pocket, calmly
With a song in my head and the wind in my hair
Hurrying myself down the street
Passing the gates and houses and cars
Until the forest opened up to me