Remember When
Dreams long forgotten
This poem has been written as part of Sahil Patel's Lifeline's poetry prompts on Medium.
Today's prompt is: Create a poem about dreams that were forgotten, like memories hiding in the corners of your mind, waiting to be remembered or set free.
Remember When
Dreams long forgotten
The ideology of a young girl’s mind,
Holding tight to dreams, hopes and determination,
The future planned in the greatest detail,
Secured within her young heart for safety.
**
She has it all figured out,
Her young years holding forth in happiness,
Memories to be made and set out in precision,
As she patiently waits for each dream to come to fruition.
**
Her teenage years mapped out to the very minute,
Her graduation pictured within her mind,
Her greatest love experienced years before it could happen,
And a princess wedding designed for the future.
**
Her choice of a career depicted and stored,
The day to day living as a fully matured woman,
Mapped with the greatest care,
Her entire life planned to a minute degree.
**
But she soon discovers life is something lived,
All plans gone awry, slipping to obscurity,
Days burned and blurred into the past,
Until her precious aspirations are discarded by the wayside.
**
She’d visit them within her grief of forgotten pain,
Determined to bring them back on track once she finds the time,
Living within the hectic pace of real life,
Forgetting, discarding, abandoning.
**
Her teens fly past, as does her twenties, thirties,
Those hopes and dreams locked forgotten within her heart,
Suddenly, she reaches her greying years; looking back,
Left with the age old question — Remember when?
**
She rifles the storage of once planned disarray,
Wondering how it all went off track so spectacularly,
A different life lived to the one she’d designed,
And she sets those lost dreams forever free.
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If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
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Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (3)
I don't even remember what the track was like, much less where I left it.
Love is a soddy mess; I like the way you let us down with a bit of grace.
This was just so sad. It's unfortunate that most of our lives are like this. Loved your poem!