in reverie

now i walk on golden brick roads. the masons finishing each section the second i step, then removing the new path after i pass. so nobody else can share my ground undeserving of their feet. now when pupils meet pupils, my gaze is no longer cold. instead of wearing rags eating tablescraps drinking 3 day old water out of a rusty pail, i sit in a leather chair in a striped cashmere sweater. sipping on a glass of 1897 cabernet sauvignon. im taller now. my smile is full instead of empty.


i am the rising son.