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I stand for something not seen, not heard
something breathing life like gusts of wind
with passing soft whispers of freedom
Something felt inside and out
something new like a first high of rushing butterflies
spread over communal gates and peoples fates
I stand for what once was but only briefly
when times were changing and people were thinking
money was paper and thoughts were priceless
expression thrived to be heard through boundless echoes
thought to be for generations to come
but here we are in paper houses with a false sense of creativity
living life like but not actually living
dreams don't fade they're worn away.

© 2007 Don Morton