The Mt Kenya Times 
Brinda. D
We dream of many things,
Our loved ones dear, our favorite ones
We visit places, lovely and bright,
In dreams what is impossible becomes possible
When alarm bells ring, with harsh sound,
We wake up, with a jolt
The dream’s unfinished, left in air,
We try to recall, but with much despair.
Rising from sleep, we strain to remember,
But dreams dissolve away like ice
Dreams are not black and white, nor colorful
At dawn we recall, in a fading way.
With the fragments, pieces we remember
Half remembered, while the rest vanished in sir
Images drift away, voices grow mute,
Just pale faces linger, in a lost route.
Dreams dissolve into the morning air,
However hard we try, we can’t remember
The memories fade, without a trace,
We can’t find the dream’s ending,
Brinda. D
GRADUATE TEACHER,
GOVT HIGH SCHOOL,
MELPATTAMPAKKAM
CUDDALORE, Tamilnadu India
creativewritersmag@gmail.com
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