Old Broken Dreams

When wistful thoughts arrive
They are hardly perceptible at first.
Shapeless and misty.

They arrive without announcement.
Strangely calling out from afar.
Long held, silenced voices.

They gather in strength,
Taking on a tangible form.
Curling around your ankles
And rising upward.

Sadness then descends –
Defenceless and unchecked.

Those broken dreams
Congregate together
Into a sudden clearing
At this poignant borderland.

They find comfort in the shared loss.
For they are your forgotten voices
Searching for home.

Seeking to be seen and heard.
Yearning for nothing less
Than your undivided attention
And heartfelt compassionate.