If you could only see my dreams I buried so deep that light could never caress them to wake.
They wither and die these dreams of mine.
Buried in the dark cold loneliness of past time.
They fall like raindrops or leaves from trees, thousands of them.
In bitter winter the tree cries and soaks the ground with shattered diamond tears, rainbow dreams evaporating in the sun.
Musings and books from a grunty overthinker
A Flip that Turned Historic
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3
The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims His handiwork. Psalms 19:1
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a place for poetic-ish ramblings on life, love and happiness ♡
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