The night in its womb
conceal many a dream
that fade away at the site
of an insensitive sun...
The dreams get scattered
like soft flour at the wind
and dissolve in the earth
like bones and ashes...
No reality can ever morph
into dreams; no dream can
ever turn into real-
a boon to us, humans!
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Comments about this poem (Dream's reality by indira babbellapati )
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