the bench in front of the bookshop

assorted books
Photo by Tuur Tisseghem on Pexels.com

I’d often sit on the lonely bench

In front of the bookshop, the one in town

With colourful displays of women’s fiction

And books for kids, filled with pictures

And adventures that I would never have time

To take part in myself. And I’d look at those tables

Out in the front, with books that have sold

In the thousands, the millions and been optioned

For TV and film with Leo DiCaprio in a starring role.

I would look at it like a sweet shop for kids,

Just wanting to touch each of the covers

And then I would wish that I had my place on those shelves,

My own little book with my name on the front

And a sticker that says ‘signed by the author’

And people would hurry inside to get hold

Of a copy of my work that I’d poured in my soul

And everyone would love it and critics would say

It’s the best bloody thing written this century.

I sit on my bench and sigh as I remember

That is not true and probably won’t be,

So I pull down my hat and tighten my scarf

As I move from the bench, already looking

Forward to the time when I can return to my bench

And live out that fantasy just one more time.

i have a dream…

I’ve been thinking a lot recently

About where it may be that our dreams come from.

I don’t mean the ones about leaving the house

Without any pants, or missing the bus

Or any of those things we think most nights.

I mean the big ones that change the world.

The ‘I have a dream’ kind of dreams,

That shape a generation and do some good.

Do those dreams come from nowhere at all?

Or are they whispered into sleeping ears

By angels sent down from God Himself?

Or are they made in a factory and pumped out at random

And whoever is lucky (or brave as the case may be)

Can catch a dream and spread it around?

I guess that we’ll never be blessed to know,

But one thing I do know is that I will keep

Dreaming my dreams in the hope that I do

Make a difference in this world

Before I leave for the next.

I don’t want to be famous and recognisable; I don’t think that I could think of anything worse. But I do want my legacy to be that I at least tried to be nice and that my dream for the world is that it becomes a friendlier place to live for EVERYONE.

Mine is quite a vague dream, but I wonder where the more definite dreams come from and how someone gets chosen to have that dream? Is it totally random or are these people predestined to have this burden thrust upon them.

I know that I would be useless if the burden was placed on me because I find it really hard to stand up to people being nasty to me. So I really hope that no flashes of inspiration are wasted on me! Perhaps it would be alright if a poem went viral and I could just quietly retreat into a dark corner somewhere.

I do like to imagine that there are some elves tucked away in a factory somewhere and they are manufacturing loads of important dreams that are sent out into the world and are delivered by just the right person.

Or perhaps it’s totally random and the dreams float around in the atmosphere and if we wander into one we are in some way lumbered with it?

I think that maybe I’m thinking about this a little too much and I should just shut up and return to watching daytime TV.

I hope that you are all having a fabulous weekend and if you suddenly get a flash of inspiration and you think that it can bring some good into the world, then try acting on it. There may be a reason you were given that idea and you might change a whole bunch of lives. Don’t waste that opportunity!

Much Love

Rachel xx