It seems as though I have awakened in the morning,
Having forgotten my dream of the night before,
To see the barren waste where once stood,
The dream of all dreams.
But the caretakers grew weary,
And could not tend the place where children once played,
But the magnolia is tall now too,
Amongst the weeds,
Just as you had always imagined it would.
The house has grown gray and weak,
Covered in dust and webs,
It shows all the days passed,
Since you were there.
And the mailbox,
It still makes that same sound,
When it's door is opened
But it remains empty from day to day
So many things remain as I recalled them there,
But I cannot remember the dreams I had.
How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it. -Marcus Aurelius