That’s the name of my new poem in fictionpress. It is not one of my favourites, and I am still not sure whether I am happy with the second stanza. It feels a little forced, and I think the poem was more complete without it.
Who controls our dreams? Our heads? Or our hearts? And who tells us when to stop dreaming? Sometimes it takes a little longer for our heart to stop dreaming than our heads.
Is this a true story? I’ll never tell.