Our teacher asked, "where do our long lost dreams go?"
"Maybe somewhere faraway that we couldn't see it anymore." a boy named forget answers.
"Or who knows? they're in a room with locked doors, waiting for us to reopen them again." a girl named remember inserts her thoughts.
Our teacher responded, "Both can be an answer, but what I know is dreams don't die, it always exist, floating in the air, it just depends on how or what you name it, you choose, remember or forget?"
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Echoes
PoetryCreating these pages are like carving my own unfathomable thoughts. It's an exploration of love-whether gifted by others or cultivated within. Each page represents a facet of myself, carried with me wherever I go, or sometimes left behind in attempt...
