in a covert cornerof your attic,
on the graffiti wall you left incomplete
in the bookmark,
which has rumi’s poetry by heart,
and the heart which sings to pink floyd,
and the fingers which play six strings
and the ones which bake a tart

look around,
you are not alone.

your dreams are
lighting up the space
it’s high time –
for you to embrace

look around, feel your vibe,
you can’t curb your dreams
by design

remind, rethink and rekindle
remind, rethink and rekindle

don’t let this turn into
a ghostlore –
a haunted house,
which would squeak,
and screech after years
only one thing –
all you had to say was
“I don’t want to do engineering.”

unelma ~ dreams in Finnish