I wonder
if the world
dreams of
me

and if it
dreams of
me,

what might
the dreaming
world see of
me?

Am I
a thorn
or a source
of pride?

A knitter’s
hook or a
singer’s
smile?

or maybe
the world
doesn’t dream
at all of
me

maybe the
world can’t fall
asleep;

a restless spirit,
all because of
the likes of
me

(inspired by Langston Hughes “I Dream of a World”)