Fifty Days

Or maybe more?
How do you measure the ticks till your dreams?
Maybe dreams. 
Anxious, hopeful.
Scared, unsure.
Begging, pleading, but to whom?
Your head, a god? The universe perhaps.
Making changes,
all day, every day.
Casting a fictitious movie.
Calming quaking breath.
So much in the air,
No air in my lungs.
What is happening? 
Do any of us know?
So much that summer can't distract.
Shining sun shines on 
treading trepidation.
But we, but I, can only go on,
I suppose. 

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