Shells (a poem)

A lifetime of dreams, some broken and used others just born and mixed with the bruised

Before me are a thousand shattered dreams

Millions of unfulfilled plans yet to be

Dream upon dream, desire upon desire

Yet how many are left to expire

When a wanderer like me could pluck it with haste

A perfectly good dream from it's dismal place

Stooping, I gathered in my hands

Hundreds of fragmented desires and plans

Only to find when I reach the end of the land

A weight to heavy that I can barely stand

If only I could see how this ‘sand’ came to be

I might not have snatched them up so eagerly