wollongongfrog

I hold a dream In the palm of my hand; It is so small, like a single grain of sand. Its wings twitch, And it itches to fly; To leave this place, And soar through the sky. Then suddenly, the dream is gone; It has disappeared- To the place it had dreamed of for so long...

The wind whispers softly Through the open window; Calling, beckoning, With gentle fingers. I reach to grasp it, But too soon has it left, Taking my dreams with it. I shall not fly tonight. I lay back and close my eyes, Entering a celestial world. I do not wish to leave, But… I can't stay.

A flower, simple, small and wilting, Laying near a weathered stone. Its once radiant bud is tilting Downward to a leafy throne. A day before it had stood tall Reaching onward toward the sky, Standing out among them all, But it is not so hard to die. As people pass the flower It pleads for them to aid it; No one notices the dying soul, And it's too late to save it. A petal falls, and then another, As the flower slowly descends upon the earth. Maybe next time someone will listen, And understand what that one flower was worth.