Watch the morning sky,
Ablaze with rose and peach,
That we send our dreams to fly,
Like sailing a boat from a beach.
See as it glides,
Ever so softly across,
Drifting as if on ocean tides,
No thought of loss.
Hear as it sings,
Faint then so loud,
The canons from it rings,
Your life becoming proud.
But then a cloud drifts,
The sky is horribly dark,
Your ship sinks in the rifts,
The meaning painfully stark.
Your sky is dead,
No color is found,
Your ship sank like lead,
Never another happy sound.
Streaming tears of rain,
Falling from your heart,
Your ship gone from pain,
Every dream ripped apart.
YOU ARE READING
Streams of Sadness
PoetryEvery person has dreams for their life. But sometimes those dreams crash and burn. And all that's left is streams of sadness
