Dreams die
And their loss are lamented
Before many eyes that hold them high
They become droplet of water in Wildfire
Dreams die
And their loss are lamented
They die because they thread
wrong paths on straight journeys
Like trajectory that leads a river
to desert where lies not its path
Dreams die
Because they're malnourished
Like babies born in drought infested Land
Dreams die
Because they're sheltered
In minds that leave them bare
Like unclothed babies laid
in the harmattan wind
Dreams are Paths
They are Destinations
They are only reaced with right threadings
Dreams are like babies
Only care determine their growth
Dreams are like rivers
Their flow determine how they'll be
great but you should belive that they can happened in the real but trust with your good dreame and belive me the would be real with my best wishes for your dreams Layla
Some dreams do die, Habib. Lack of nourishment and commitment. And care, as you say. Fran x (Please explain harmattan wind. I am not familiar with it. Thanks)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very oky, and interested for all soul, thanks contiune writing.