I hold my dreams so close,
Because I fear I'd lose them all.
I wrap them up in polythene
So they're lifeless, like a doll.
I whisper to them at night though,
With a heartache, not so small
And when I put on those running shoes,
I still hear their call.
But so long as they're a secret
There is at least that ray of hope, tall.
So I'll let my dreams be dreams alone
They never see the light of the day, at all.
P.S: We are often so scared of our dreams, we underestimate our power to execute them. Execution is a boring affair and barely as romantic and exciting as dreaming itself, but it's braver, no doubt. Is imagination best left unexplored? Should dreams really be left as dreams alone?