Tethered to a stump of memory <br />a Wish lies bleaching in white isolation. <br />Dream winds worry its fading outline, <br />cracked lights shine on it - sometimes. <br /> <br /> <br />It wastes. Brittle as unformed ideas, <br />it breaks. Unvisited, it withers, <br />almost dissolving, till just subtle stains <br />remain, ghostly as amputees' pain.<br /><br />James Mills<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wish-7/
