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A box of dreams

Here’s a box with someone’s dreams.
They look a little dusty.
Some of them are hardly used,
and some of them are rusty.
But they’re pretty good dreams-wipe one off.
It almost looks brand new.
I don’t suppose that any of these dreams belong to you?
If they do then clean them up, this dust will make you sneeze.
And when you find a good one, could you share it with us please?
Some dreams are meant for sharing, some are meant just for yourself-
but none of them are meant for sitting dusty on a shelf.

© Joe Thompson

Today I Cried For a Wounded Child


Today I cried for a wounded child
a deluge of tears from long ago
never convicted, yet unforgiven
an innocent child I used to know

My friend I hope you’ll understand
inside there’s a child no one can see
if you’ve kept them locked away
isn’t now the time to set them free

I can share my joy with the world
my past due debts are reconciled
and I can finally love you because
today I cried for a wounded child

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