I wrote this poem to inspire a friend…

My hopes are now homeless
at the shelter of broken dreams.
I’m not happy,
this was not the plan,
not my youthful fantasy.
“Life is passing by,”
the mirror keeps on whispering,
“I love you,” now rings hollow,
and no one seems to care.
This can’t be my life,
so now what is the plan?
Wither away in sadness?
like a flower in the fall,
like a prisoner in her chains,
like a dying sick old man,
Or,
Begin to change the seasons,
break the iron shackles,
and find eternal youth.

To read my story, click here: The Boy and His Sand Castle