somewhere in my mid-dream
i hear laughter of children
playing as foolishly and merrily
as children can be

eyes wide opened with joy
musingly i hear them laugh
rushing to my bedroom window
just to see dead leaves
swirling and chasing each other
in the mourning cold wind
on a deserted playground pavement
like the ghosts of the forgotten children

the chilly air piercing my soul

i touch my cheeks...
it's too late to hold back
my tears and the sound of dry leaves
scratching and moaning on the pavement
paint the same picture
the same picture no artist can paint
the same picture that words can't tell
the same picture that makes me realize
this is one foul sense of hope

i close my eyes to continue my quest
to where laughter is real...