Cramp

Old work - a sonnet

I live inside your destined dream
that was planted long ago
my fingers pound these worn out keys
to keep your dream afloat

And everyday one tries to stay
away from a hasty decline
inevitably here my mind goes astray
for this is your dream and not mine

My hands hang out in the blistering cold
snow drops then slides down past the tips
my dream forever I shall hold
even when yours takes my grip

My time feels wasted when I'm here
for my words remain unprinted, oh dear, oh dear