I collected dreams for a while
And stored them in a small wooden box on my windowsill
Some of them were polished as baby pearls
Others as jagged as pieces of uncut jade
Like raw stones that had tumbled in my mind
Some for a matter of moments
Others for years
I guarded them like tiny treasures
And never shared them
Until one day I opened the box to tinker with them
And they were gone
Like wandering children
I had not understood…
They were on loan
And must be shared with others
Or the gift rescinded