The Restless Dreamer
Waiting is like staring into a puddle of sand in the hope that flowers will grow,
Time seems abundant yet vexingly slow,
Sending out manuscripts as if they were letters to a lover in another dimension
Hoping that with every part of your chakras you get their attention,
Being picked and acknowledged,
It makes the years of frustration and failure seem worth it,
Every syllable on the page is a baked good from the oven of your imagination,
Sleeping becomes a hobby as you try to dream,
On a cloud above blue streams,
Waiting for their decision.
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