Les Rêves Pas Réalisés

When time forgot me
It crushed my little heart.
It shattered it into pieces;
I, the board; time, the dart.

Hidden away,
Like some dusty Egyptian scroll.
How could time forget
This bright and colourful soul?

So many dreams I once envisioned;
Of travel, adventure and stars,
Now I cannot recall that blurry vision;
I am left with wounds and scars.

Youth was freedom,
A trial of adulthood.
I arrived at forty
And finally understood:

The dream was always far away,
And I, always here.
I thought I’d one day reach those goals,
That I would always remain sincere.

Leaving dreams for other times
Is the practice of a fool,
Who reads, preaches, thinks and ponders,
Instead of charging into life, he stays swimming in the pool.

Wasting time on theory
Instead of the thrilling real.
You’d think by now he’d have learned
From repetition’s cruel wheel.

The poor boy is a man now,
In tweed and beard like moss.
His green and vivid youthful soul;
A thing most certainly lost.

Cold cottage stones keep him company at night,
His wife long passed away.
He’s lived as a stellar London socialite
But not the life he prayed.