Contributor: Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

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But chances are I may never dance on mountaintops, even in my dreams.
In dead of night, I wonder if the sun will rise again even in my dreams.

A long-ago love note slipped under my desk, answered now or never.
Oh, how tragic! A young heart never mended, even in my dreams.

Two pennies rubbed in your able hands could once save the world.
Two palms full of ashes scattered, I remember when even in my dreams.

Glossy smiles and paisley dresses frolic between my paper pages.
Voices from past days forget to call. I feel them often, even in my dreams.

Senility of age never fools the mourner. Winter clouds still feel gray.
Sad songs drift from open windows, taunting the trees, even in my dreams.

Forty years of fires and floods have come and gone, and still I run.
No shame in getting sidetracked by a poet's pen or chasing you again -
even in my dreams.


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Rhonda Johnson-Saunders is a lifetime lover of reading and writing poetry. She enjoys writing all types of poetry, especially free verse and haiku and has been published in The Heron's Nest. When not writing, Rhonda enjoys music, genealogy, travel and best of all, being a mom to her two young sons.