pam handa


Dreams

Dreams are made of tinsel fairy tales,
Told in distant lands o'er hills and dales.
One's subconscious mind they race to embrace,
Yet suddenly they disappear without a trace.
These prisoners on parole are larger than life itself,
No wonder we place them on its top-most shelf.
The compelling power that on us they exert,
Makes humanity long to reality forever desert.
In sorrow they make us see life's varied dimensions;

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