Mothered by a hope, cradled by an idea;
The dream was born on a happy night,
For hours it kept me awake, by its innocent cry.
It’s a blessing of a god, let me father it tonight.
But with the dawn, I must rise,
To see it gone and pay the price. (In the form of sorrows mebbe)
Nevertheless the memoirs stay;
And help me fight, the plight.
But there will be dusk and sun will set.
When a new dream will be born…
Dedicated to: me
