Dream Weaver

Once Upon A Dream.

So silently, the shadows formed, and cloaked what once, was shining bright.
How softly, crept the darkness, into what, was once, a sweet delight.
Your hand has slipped from my hand, and the touching... just too far away,
the hopes of what, might once, have been... perhaps, not destined, then, to stay.
What might have been... but, futile hope; but, futile hope... for what might be,
futile... perhaps, but then... not wasted,
lingering, as sweet memory.

A fleeting promise, blossoming; a

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