Dust And Dreams
There was dust and there were dreams
Born of imagination and longing
There was years of neglect and wanting
Then, a spark, kindled by thought
Set fire to memory; thus it was that poetry,
Longing and imagination came together
Gifting me a kind of liberty.
There was dust from an exiled country
There were dreams born of imagination and longing
The jewels, souvenirs, that glowed when all else in me was dead.
There was dust, then.
There were dreams.
But only, only when
Love redeems.
Copyright: Rani Turton
