On The Threshold Of A Dream
by:  M. L. Stephenson


She was born on the edge of a small town,
To a father who was seldom around,
Her youth held no childhood rhymes,
It was filled hopeless trying times,
She dreamed of love and passionate romance,
But the reality of life gave her no chance,
She married too young to the first love she found,
Now she has children of her own with a man, who’s seldom around,
She sees her children play in their tattered clothes,
Has the hopes and fears that every mother knows,
And late at night, when all is quiet and dark,
She envisions a beautiful house, with a lawn just like a park,
Thinks of the boy that lived up on Baker Street,
And a single tear drops from her cheek,
Closes her eyes and remembers childhood thoughts, how long ago they seem,
She has always lived peering through barred gates, on the threshold of a dream.

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