Calosha Gomes

I wrote in the snow all my dreams and hopes,
melted away at the end of each winter.

I wrote in the sand on the beach all my dreams and hopes,
washed away by the rushing waves.

So now, I wrote all my dreams and hopes in my heart,
with more than ink.

I dropped a coin in the fountain of wishes,
to meet you at another crossroad,
just when I stopped meeting you in my dreams.

I want it real with you
or not want anything at all.
I got realistic when I locked the last door—real or nothing.

You are not the dream,
but something real,
with someone who stays
after I say,
“You don’t understand.”