DREAM MAKER

Years ago, when I was a girl, I used to read scary stories at bedtime to frighten
myself.  I bitterly regretted this when I had to live in a big old country house
with floors that creaked even when no-one was walking on them and when
shadows took the form of human figures. So, had I been asked then what was
the worst bad dream, I would inevitably have said something along these lines.
Now, however, bad dreams can be a lot more subtle and a lot more scary, just
like the one in this poem.

 DREAM MAKER

His dream maker has retired and gone
  on holiday,
Taking with it all the sunny holidays and
  golden beaches.

What has it left behind?
What couldn’t it be bothered to pack into its
  overnight bag?

Well, just about everything except the dream
  of Hoovers.
Walking up and down grey carpet, constantly
  running over the same bits of paper
With the same little black figures written on them.
The ones that don’t add up and never will no matter
  how often he writes them down.

That’s it!
A vacancy has occurred at this house.
Only dream makers with fabulous holidays in hand
  need apply.
Those who have hoovering and unfriendly figures
  in their pockets

   NEEDN’T BOTHER.

© 2023 Gwen Grant.