Dreams

Walking down the Seco Creek,
Searching for my dreams.
They’ve dried up, like all this sand,
Like so many other streams.

Wondering where I went wrong,
And what I could have changed.
I’m at the age where it’s too late,
For my life to be rearranged.

Maybe the secret is to settle,
Just accept what’s done is done.
Your dreams may all have passed away,
But there’s still time to have some fun.

Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.) View all posts by Blind John Ellsworth