Rekindle Those Shattered Dreams

Rekindle Those Shattered Dreams

Hers weren’t the dream of a fatigued brain.
They were neither the illusion of hope
Nor the conjured up images of weary brain,
They were the desires of simulated hope
Built upon by what the profession holds.

She had seen them as a child.
Their black robed attire and silvery wig
Has given the profession its noble dignity:
They were referred to as the learned.
She had hoped, when growing up, to wear that wig

That was her dream, a child hood ambition.
A child hood dream she nurtured in her early years.
She had lived and acted as one in every situation.
Oh! How cruel can fate be, even to our little angel
She lost her parents in her tender years

She cannot understand why it should be so.
Who is going to bring her dreams to fruition?
Will she ever fulfill her life ambition, to
Wear the robed attire and the silvery wig?
Who is going to stand beside her on graduation?

“Shattered dreams!” She wailed in her anguish.
“Broken hopes,” she groaned in her misery.
And so the years rolled by: but she dreams of her Dream.
She held on to those dreams of her Dream.
Shattered Dream, but it’s not a faded dream.