In a tiny bubble of clouds
a thought begins to formulate
drawing pictures into dreams
then words forming to art.

Those were the time of light
seeking through those eyes
that once opened while dreaming
during the days of glory.

Now those dreams lay in the night
deep inside and smother in darkness
where the eyes remain closed
and dreams live in regrets.

Forever those eyes remain closed
it was the only entrance for dreams
to come true--nightmares to vanish.
Forever dead inside the heart.