Fading Dream
After the fog has lifted,
And the road is plain to see,
What will be your plans,
With half our memory?
I’ll send mine to the rainbow,
Where living colors gleam,
A new love could use what’s left,
Of this our fading dream.
Will the green pines keep their whistle,
When the cool north winds blow,
Will our fading dream turn frigid,
Like the late December snows?
Our fading dream was once alive,
The moon called us by name,
What happen to it’s colors,
When a dream goes to the grave?
Now our fading dream is ready,
To take loves final flight,
The clouds of doubt surround it,
To banish it from sight.
After the fog has lifted,
And the road is plain to see,
What will be your plans,
With half our memory?
I’ll send mine to the rainbow,
Where living colors gleam
A new love could use what’s left,
Of this our fading dream
Copyright © Norman Taulbee | Year Posted 2010
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