The dreams I once cherished are lost in the flood
Of fast-flowing waves from the current of life.
The fancies of youth have been nipped in the bud. —
Reality choked them with trouble and strife.
Their sweet-sounding notions can charm me no more;
They’re swept down the stream from a slippery slope,
For turbulent waters wash up on the shore
And catch every fragment of unanchored hope.
A dream must be fastened to something secure,
Not lightly attached to presumptions of youth,
For dreams that have value, give strength, and endure
Are those, only those, which are anchored in truth.
~ Nita Brainard