Dream Catcher

A dream to catch. No, its always been dreams.

Dreams, like drops of varied colours
in a glass of water, charmed me in
to believe. Believed I, like words of an amigo.
Started pursuing them when I thought
they were teasing me, my incapability.
Some disguised as black and white
shook my hand out of pity, while some
reached out to others, and mocked
me from under the roof of normalcy.
Some I see, flutters above like a Jezebel
when I sleep with my eyes open.
And some stays in the cave of oblivion.
And there was a willow branch
which reached out to me once.
I broke it and placed it on water.
A vine on my backyard which I cut
and laced to make a web. Then
there was that red feather and a pearl,
which turned into ornamental hangings
on my dream catcher.