The Mantelpiece

Dreams lay on my mantelpiece,
forgotten, caked with dust,
a symbol of the days gone by,
of youth and will, robust.

How I have wandered to and fro
since when those Dreams were laid,
a busy man on busy street,
my heart and soul betrayed.

And were it that it might have been,
or even had a chance,
I would have given them my time,
my Self and I enhance.

Oh, how I fool myself again,
my excuses running dry.
It burdens me to think I might
have led my Dreams awry.

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