Winter Mourning

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Wake up to dreams as dull as skies,

which were compromised.

Wake up to faces passing like clouds

and swollen with rain

as they glare into white lights

reflected from phone displays,

television screens, microwaves,

monitors and mirrors.


Clothed in blue to black uniform,

manoeuvring through mundane

personalities of specialised thinkers

and workers, I see dreams

taken by winds of worry,

a black to grey reality tied around their collar.

They are all professionals

and with abundant wealth they soon


disappear into colourful passing lights

on internet pages with thousands likes.

To be living the #dream in the eyes

of those watching the screens.

But we forget the true view

of pregnant faces carrying pain,

of other dreams tied behind uniformity,


of envy in us all,

and practicality as law.


Watch out dreamers

for the disheartening Dawn.

Watch out for its constant criticism

coz to Dawn, your dream is not

commendable. But in your bedroom,

aspiration twinkles until

you achieve the dream. Then that glamour

dims in the light of the screen’s dislikes.


Dreams become vandalised,

defamed by some fingerprint,

tainted by some idiot,

condemned by some ouen.

So as they shine in the our sleep

giving us solace and ease,

let it be our selfish beacon of hope

to carry us through our grey

winter morning.

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