maybe someday maybe tomorrow
magnets inside bracelets
pressed against my skin
work their magic so I may
rise to the next occasion
ankles locked in shackles
keeping me grounded
green field of four-leaf clovers
shuffling to the dead man’s beat
sharpened sickle in one hand
club in the other
paving new ways for the man
hollering from the tower
locked inside precious dreams
all I do is count
day and night do not exist
prisoners of love move on
june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
“locked inside precious dreams” damn true!
We cherish our dreams.
yes, this is so very true, thank you