The Pike Poem … A Dream

They walk with swagger down the row,
Already planning where they’ll go,
Measuring curtains, picking paint,
Dreaming big — though odds are faint.

On Greek Row lawns they plant their flag,
With hand-me-downs and borrowed brag,
They toast to rooms not yet in sight,
And claim the corner lot by right.

“Just wait,” they say, “our time is near,
The biggest house will soon be here.”
They sketch it out on notebook lines,
With marble steps and grand designs.

But bricks don’t rise from hopeful talk,
Nor keys appear from midnight chalk.
The gates stay closed, the signs stay still,
No moving trucks crest up the hill.

They swear the stars have all aligned,
Yet leave the paperwork behind.
While others build with plans and dues,
They’re building castles made of views.

So here they stand with bold decree,
A mansion shaped by fantasy.
On Greek Row’s map they stake their claim —
But dreams alone don’t win the game.