Broken dreams and empty skies.

Speckled grains of broken dreams,

ripping holes in all i’ve seen.

Empty eyes, heart long gone

birds sing a lonely song.

My feet are bare against the grass,

how long will this emptiness last?

My skies are black and greying too,

as buds burst into a new.

As flowers scream into the light,

and the moon dances through the night,

and nothings wrong,

and nothings right,

my broken dreams are out of sight.

Karen Hayward (c) 2015.

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