Wish Lanterns Glow
Old people harbor wishes, maybe with
Their grudges. Wishes also linger from
Their childhood daydreams each one like a myth
Created solely for one heart. They come
Back to these children made of wrinkles, stiff
With memories, and these wishes are deployed
Like endless weapons, each a hieroglyph
Of soul and future. They are not destroyed
By disappointed decades. Dreams live on
With thorns that grow, protecting them, one thorn
For every petal of the dream. They dawn
Again when they are needed. They are borne
Like power on suits of armor. Dreams are not
Kids. Reveries refuse. They won’t be taught.
