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The poet speaks of the ordinary dreams of an ordinary woman – a home with all its ordinary trappings, that are now lie unused.
Lie crumpled on the floor,
Like the remains of a dream.
They are not needed any more
To adorn the windows,
To prevent the glaring sunlight
From entering the bedroom.
They are not needed any more,
For nobody inhabits the house any more.
The balcony lies empty,
For nobody cared to clean it.
Once someone wanted to
Deck it with potted plants.
Windows with blue curtains,
Balcony with potted plants,
Branded water-purifiers –
All the ingredients of a mediocre dream
Breath their last,
For nobody cares for that dream now.
Mediocre dreams are like plants,
Needing someone to water them,
To care for them.
But I have traded them
And my fragile mediocre dreams
Failed to withstand
The glare of brilliance.
Image source: pixabay
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