in the morning <br />we talk of dreams <br />assume the colors of flowers <br />and the glow of sunrise <br />our quick legs and nimble hands <br />take us <br />to the strong pillars of hopes <br />and our eyes look far <br />reaching the foot <br />of the rainbow <br />on the other side <br />of the hill <br /> <br />at noon we are wary <br />and our arms stretch for more <br />we draw more dreams <br />taller like the skyscrapers <br />and we assume the wings of <br />birds soaring in the skies <br />and taking dives <br />on the waves of the blue <br />sea <br /> <br />in the afternoon we feel <br />the stabs of lightning we heard the <br />thunders of some failings and we try <br />to stretch our imaginations <br />for understanding how things did not happen <br />the way we dream them to be <br />how others fell how some of our friends <br />die with eyes shocked for the <br />sudden defeats <br />the crushing of the edifice <br />the removal of the beautiful facades <br />the breaking of the borders <br />the pieces of dreams shattered like <br />fragile glass before our <br />very own wrinkled faces <br />beside our bleeding feet <br /> <br />we finally find the truth and accepting it <br />we mellow down like marshmallow <br />we sleep deep in the night <br />without any regret <br />for life has been fair <br />and soon we all shall leave here<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-dreams-3/
