Dreams are made
Of silken tears
Of love that never,
Comes
Of trembling leaves
And mortal fears
Where even Time
Succumbs.
We can't control
Even our dreams
As much as we would
Like,
Or even know
And comprehend
The message said,
That night,
When all was dark
And all light fled,
For love had really
Died,
Except in dreams
Would Love
Come back to Life,
But what was real
Is what you felt
When in your dreams,
You cried,
Those stolen dreams
That well it seems
Were never yours
To keep,
In Life's long
Loveless, flight.
a thoughtful penning. I don't recall my own dreams, so it's interesting to read what others see in theirs. I enjoyed the read. tfs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well penned Sandra, your poems are a delight to read. I hope your Christmas dreams come true.