Watering My Dreams

I water my dreams in drips and drops,

Spacing out the nutrients like a miser

Afraid that the golden treasure will run out.

I water my dreams like a nervous gardener,

afraid of both giving too much and not enough,

so my dreams grow in spurts, varying between

lush vibrancy and stark bare branches,

starving for fuel.

I water my dreams like they are a pack of angry dogs,

and I’m afraid of getting too close.

I move toward them one inch at a time,

holding my breath, and hoping that the next step

isn’t the one that causes them to bite.