Disenchanted Dreamers

He's a poet; he's a writer
In a realm faraway.
He's a wordsmith, an igniter

Of embers cold and gray.

Somber, regretfully arrayed;

A sad, disenchanted man.

He's a sunset whose colors fade;

A lost, lonely also-ran.

Weary, wistful one,

Open your heart's gate.

Your dream gave up the ghost;

Don't be afraid to let it go.

The time has come for you to start anew.

Underneath the sun,

Dare to contemplate

The things that matter most.

Soar to that mystical plateau

For dreamers whose dreams did not come true.

She's a singer; she's a dancer

On a dark, empty stage;

An eccentric dream romancer;

A songbird in a cage.

She says life is mostly sorrow,

Rambling rhythm, ragged rhyme.

She hopes things will change tomorrow,

But she's running out of time.

Weary, wistful one,

Open your heart's gate.

Your dream gave up the ghost;

Don't be afraid to let it go.

The time has come for you to start anew.

Underneath the sun,

Dare to contemplate

The things that matter most.

Soar to that mystical plateau

For dreamers whose dreams did not come true.

~

Underneath the sun,

Dare to celebrate

The things that matter most,

Soar to that mystical plateau

For dreamers whose dreams did not come true.

© 2022 David Acosta