oh...thats sort of...dreaming of true love looks naive today, and I love the way it evolves, you wake up, it's so...it's saddening,
Dream…
And then I wake up.
I wake up alone.
And I realize that I don’t believe in love.
And that I don’t believe in the blue sky, the calm river, the tender laughter.
I don’t, because that is the stuff of dreams.

yea...its quite sad its hard to find lov, and most ppl dont believe in it...ive got a friend whos in lov, but love isnt love, unless it is given in return, not really anyway. Great job! love and good luck.Twilight

Reminds me of one of my stuff, so much so that it could be a companion piece, which is weird. This one is soft and hard, sweet and bitter, and oh so lovely in it's form. Beautiful.

Bless.

EEks! Sorry! Meant Lois LOWRY'S "The Giver". Forgive me for that stupid memory slip!

-Izzy J.

I'll say this isn't one of your best poems and it's, well, quite typical of poems describing why they hate dreams/detest waking up or to that effect.
Reading this, especially the line about the colors, I suddenly remembered Lois Duncan's "The Giver"...that dream...no, the memory Jonas had of family and warmth and music and laughter and colors. So that stayed with me so the awakening was ruder than the first time I read this.
A good idea behind the poem, but not really a good poem in itself. Honesty!

-Izzy J.