Reminiscing sorrows of yesteryear,
is futile my dear, spread your wings,
and soar without fear,
Those stony eyes would again stare,
but in awe and reverence.
Maybe their dispassionate heart,
might stumble upon fortuitous love.
And they would too follow your dreams,
chasing a distant star-trail,
flowing through the seam
Blinded are thoughts,
by norms of past,
muffle their Insipid gossip,
For you have smiles to carve,
hope to catch and memories to engrave,
Stay strong, my little Dream weaver.
Poetry Form - Shape Poem