in the Dark Vol 6 Edition 5
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comfortable and content above poverty; free of Darwin's iron bands
but underneath, seething at the mediocrity that crept upon her.
All is not as her dreams had it
& someone had to accept reality, so the dreams, they fell to dust.
(we'll call it growing up)
But quietly she mourns the dreams
& lifts them out of their dusty photo-album graveyards, dusts them.
Quietly she holds them up to real life
And not so quietly tries to reconcile the visions.
Late at night she dreams,
When the moon pours down from a scattered-diamond sky
and the world is a black-and-white photograph,
Late at night she'd dance with her dreams,
but it's cold, and dark, and what would people think if she were dancing?
It's mediocrity on her shoulder in the cold night, whispering nothings,
those nights when warmth is belonging,
those days when money, house, 2.5 kids seem as natural and necessary
as the sun.
And so pass the faerie ethereal dreams; they never stood for the light
they were dreams, and magic, and inspiration, living in the happy land
So distant from making a living, and so they stayed there.
That's why she bitches & moans & waits for the gloom to lift,
for life to come dancing once more from moon-dusted fields.
So speaks silently,
the middle-aged wife.