My dreams have slept beneath a pile
of heavy awkward stones.
They’re buried in the past –
a life that no man owns.

Dreams of books I’ll never write –
e’er the aspiring author’s plight.
Adventure, romance, courage, love,
lying ‘neath the rocks above.

Words that have a life unknown.
Words that move the granite stones.
Let the stories now be told.
Tell the stories, young and old.

Weigh the stones and carry on.
Hoist the anchorhold.
No man owns these either.
Let the dreams unfold.