It seems in dreams we wander,
Through dark and shallow times,
We face the night together,
Casting off the ties that bind.
In flukes it looks as though we’re winning,
As we stumble and fumble through each day,
Casually picking up some snippets,
That help us through, or so we say.
It appears in fears we linger,
Letting in the doubts of old,
Standing now in isolation,
As the pang of dread takes hold.
But in the end we tend to falter,
As doubt creeps into the dreams we share,
Turning wishes to shallow kisses,
Trapped by the ties of those who’ve dared.