The Dream of a Struggling Poet

morning by morning
I see the same old face
in the mirror

hours upon hours
I write and rewrite a poem
that grows old

night after night
I go to bed exhausted
with a dream deferred

weekly routine
the garbage man collects
my unpublished poems

months gone by
gray hairs pop up
on my head

year's end
I step into the same river
twice

New Year
the same phoenix flaps its wings
in my dream

Jan/Feb 2011 issue of Sketchbook