Crayon Box Dreams
Dreams in various colours emerge from the night,
They escape the gloomy room,
Hoping to find expression in the light,
Desiring to awaken and bloom.
Dreams trapped in a box don’t tell a story,
They don’t sing a song,
They can never reach the heights of glory;
In the veiled, they belong.
The beauty of diversity lies in varied aspirations,
Time-bound and moving like ticking clocks,
Heralding blossoming inspirations,
But how do we hope when they lie in a box?
Dreams are like birds eager to see the bright sky;
Like blooming flowers, when kept in a box, they eventually die.
June 5, 2025.
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