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.