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(To Armstrong) Remember those days when mists of uncertainty Shrouded our timid hearts. We never left the hearthstead, The fire of which burned from our silent prayers And our hopes blossomed into a fortress That brimmed with ripples of success. Remember the tears we shed together, Tears that soaked the soil For our footprints to be visible. The thunder barked in fury, Who did not rear with foreboding? But we did not cower Because hope had a home in our hearts. It stood like a citadel held by loyal rocks. Malevolent winds snarling with spite And bloated with hate, We kicked with sturdy feet That sparkled with crystals of confidence. But the storms have invaded our yearnings. Now our path has become slippery From the mire of battered expectations. Brutal hands of fate have uprooted our dreams Leaving them on the roadside to wither. Our hope has become a crushed reed Being trampled to a sad death. Our hearts have grown cold- Their mirth stolen by the sobbing moon Clad in garbs of mourning. But I see beyond this bleakness A day coming with kerchiefs of comfort To clean our tears. I see that day when our withering dreams Shall drink life to the full And blossom like daffodils drenched in dew. The day shall break When our tearful hearts Shall have the taste of happy songs. The moon shall discard her sackcloth For flowing gowns of glee And sing a joyful chorus. That day shall break!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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