Lay your dreams, my hatchlings

Do not throw away your hopes and dreams--
they guide you away from the sea.

As children we trundle on the sand towards the moon
and lay our dreams in clutches, daring to hope
that some will survive to adulthood.
Few do.

But twenty-some years pass, and then
crawling, lumbering, we return, the nests
now empty, yet
somehow, one, two, four of those dreams
find us, join us, lead our way
back to the sea.

Do not throw away your hopes and dreams--
they guide you back to the sea, and become
the water in which you swim,
so that no matter how lost you become
you may always make your way.

Silence in the Office

I smell rose petals in the air
when I walk into the dull, dark office;
silence fills the halls, but I smell
hot coffee, rich and thick, percolating.
The cologne of the neighboring cube
overpowers the sound of his typing
until I hear nothing; the lightly burnt air
scent of the heater running fills a
hum-less room.

I sit, and work, in the silence,
bright colors jumping past my eyes.
Reds, greens, purples of ink
bleeding papers into Standard English,
while pastel blues and eggshell whites
backlight purple mardi gras beads
and turquoise posters of ocean scenes.

I sit, and work, in the silence
and wonder where everyone has gone,
in an office full of scent and color,
the dystopian quiet plays an anthem
to the tune of rising zombies.