Poetry Collection 2016

Dreams For the End of Time

After Marsha De La O

Droplets shook from the branch, causing ripples on the water.

The birds flew overhead, cawing for their loved ones and

Hoping for a summer in which the sun will make the sand gold.

A hope that the Brew-

er's on the hill in

Their miniscule home have. It is the

Same, but different. Theirs is a quiet

Dream that slips along in silver strands, calling from deeps

Unknown. Stairs that you would think utter disturbance at

The slightest change in weight. However, the-

y let their wishes lay far

From them. Waiting for the end

To have them be realized. Sleeping on the brink of

Time. Praying that they get to live until tomorrow where the

Future looks brighter than their past, while all the birds hope for is the end of the season.