In the peaceful corners of the brain,
Lie dreams tragically missing, and abandoned.
Blurred shades, similar to fall leaves,
In colors delicate as memory laments.
When clear shades of red and blue,
Presently murmur pale, a muffled shade.
These fantasies were brilliant, they took off, they sparkled,
However time continued on, and they were no more.
A kid’s expectation, a youthful heart’s fire,
Painted skies of immense craving.
Brilliant yellows, trying greens,
The tones strong of young plans.
Yet, as the years fallen through our hands,
The varieties floated, such as moving sands.
A fantasy that used to be energetic, valid,
Presently waits faint in shadowed tone.
There’s one of affection, a delicate pastel,
A quiet wish that endlessly fell.
When shining brilliantly, a ruby red,
Presently delicate regardless, a fantasy half-dead.
A material spread with lost pursuits,
Of broken strings and quieted woodwinds.
What used to be music, distinctly,
Presently repeats faint, so that none might hear.
However in those shades, a wonder stows away,
In dreams that ebb like calm tides.
For however they faint, they won’t ever kick the bucket,
They live as murmurs, delicate and modest.
A blurred blue, a delicate dim,
They wait in a dusk play.
What’s more, in their light, we here and there see
The hints of who we used to be.
So let these tones delicately mix,
With dreams tragically missing, and hearts that repair.
For in neglected shades, we find,
A secret section, a delicate kind.
For however they blur, they leave a follow —
The shades of dreams we can’t eradicate.
They live inside, similar to coals warm,
The delicate gleam of a past changed.
Comments