When Dreams Don't Come True
Dreams die hard,
The heart is pained when they turn to dust,
Condolences can't come from a mere card,
Nor are we helped by sympathetic words from those we trust.
We weave a fantasy behind closed eyes,
People do and say what we contrive,
But it's all so many intricate lies,
And in the end it is only ourselves we deceive.
When things are different than we planned we're bemused,
What happened to the kind gestures and words of love?
Others more knowing and wise look on quite amused,
When we see that our dreams are more fleeting than a flying dove.
This has happened to one and all,
But do we ever learn from such a mistake,
Or do we try to catch the pieces as they fall?
Either way it is a risk each must take.
-srw
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poetry angst