Dreams of a happier time
Hopes of a sweeter life
Live no more
Gone they go

Symbol of a beautiful horizon
Evidence of a gentle trying
Wasted and thrown
Never to be known

There they lie, still ******* in strings
Still wrapped as delicate pretty things
But no longer meaning what they should
Just a memory of a broken dream, no good

Never forgotten, but not at all good
So cruel and cold like winter wood
Never to become in reality the fantasy
Never to overtake comfort by ecstasy

They don’t mean a thing now
And good riddance to them