There are dreams that wil not ever die,
HIdden in the corners of one's mind;
Dreams that linger and persist,
That only will and memory can find.
They are tucked away in shadows,
Sheltered in a lonesome bay;
Brought to the front when needed,
Just for the moment will they stay.
They are deep, but buried lightly,
We can dig them up in record time;
Like pieces of a puzzle missing,
Like poetry that will not rhyme.
There are dreams that last a lifetime,
Safe within the tortured heart, at rest;
And when we give them to the soul,
It's when we deem the time is best.
Dreams don't die, they don't know dying.
They survive, like some we know;
When the body dies, we'll take them with us,
High above... or down below..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem