Lost Dreams

Behind many old faces, a dream lies,
Its light faded, like embers that die.
One, two, and many to recall,
If asked, the memories come flooding back, like autumn's rain.

At tender years, the dream sprouts,
Stretching out its stem, filling the heart
With a rushing force, like a river's flow,
The speed of growth, unstoppable and slow.

It spreads out its leaves, fertile is the heart,
Drinking in the sunshine, and the nourishing rain's sweet art.
Patter, patter, patter, the joy of heart overflows,
Like a fountain's splashing waters, that echo and resound.

Comes the photosynthesis, another overflow,
As the dream grows strong, and its roots dig deep below.
Only time remains, for a final overflow,
To ripen the fruit, and bring the harvest to its peak and glow.

But time drives by, like a speeding train,
Unstoppable and unyielding, crushing our dreams beneath its wheels' strain.
It strikes, both a blessing and a curse,
Leaving us with memories, and the ghosts of what we've traversed.

The heart is disrupted, weeds overtake,
Choking out the dream, like a suffocating snake.
Left with no space to breathe, the dream withers away,
Suffocated by the weight of reality's crushing sway.

It once bright leaves, now wilted and brown,
Crumbling to dust, like autumn's leaves that scatter and drown.
The memories linger, a bittersweet refrain,
Echoing the whispers of what could have been, and the dreams that remain.