Colin F. Jones


I no longer dream of what the world could be,
I’ve dreamt all those dreams; none now agree,
With the stark reality of truth, that reduces sleep,
Leaving little in my mind that I wish to keep.
Is there only beauty in words derived from thoughts
That imagine images in paradises and desired resorts
In elegant expressions describing none existent things,
That to the sad face the occasional smile brings.
Tis all human history that speaks of death and war;
What comes after are the same things that have gone before.
They lived in hope, (as we do) those who’ve died,
The guns have changed but not the way they are applied.
Ah let us dream then; pretending life’s worthwhile,
For tis better always that we try to smile.