to marcy howard
As a day, winds slowly down, and you slowly, drift to sleep,
Of what person, do you dream, what memories, do you keep,
Are your dreams, just fantasy, pleasant thoughts, from the mind,
Or do those dreams, haunt your life, as peace, you can not find.
Does your mind, search out those things, that torment through the night,
Slowly, reaching out to you, as dusk, withdraws the light,
As you slowly sink, into that world of dreams,
Do you feel, your memories, are lightless, sunbeams.
Can these dreams, refresh you, or show you, what path to take,
No matter, what life, may bring, or the choices that you make,
There is, no way, to predict, where, those dreams, may take you,
And if your heart, is involved, the sun, may never break through.
For as those dreams, show your desires, the memories may taunt,
All your insecurities, and those things you want,
If you awake, from a dream, thinking, it was real,
Does that mean, it will occur, justifying, what you feel.
At some point, you must remember, these dreams, are not your past,
Though, the future, they could be, the present, leaves so fast,
Each day, erodes to memory, only the heart is true,
And though, you can not, hold a dream, the dream, holds on to you