Shattered Dreams

In nurseries painted blue and pink,
Where hopes once bloomed, now shadows sink,
Toy soldiers gather dust on shelves,
As real ones dig their earthen delves.

A child’s drawing on the wall,
Of mommy, daddy, standing tall,
Now fades beneath the weight of years,
As war steals youth and leaves just tears.

The football field, once lush and green,
Where futures bright could once be seen,
Lies pockmarked now with craters deep,
Where only ghosts dare come to weep.

Graduation gowns hang still,
In closets dark, a bitter pill,
For those who’ll never walk the stage,
Their dreams locked in war’s cruel cage.

Young lovers’ plans, once filled with light,
Now shattered by the bombs of night,
Their whispered vows of ‘forever’,
Drowned in conflict’s raging river.

The old man’s garden, once his pride,
Where grandkids played and laughter died,
Now grows but weeds and broken stone,
A testament to lives outgrown.

In labs where cures were once pursued,
Now weapons vile are brewed and stewed,
Brilliant minds that could save lives,
Now forge the blades of war’s sharp knives.

The artist’s brush lies broken, dry,
No colors left to paint the sky,
For all the hues of hope and grace,
Are bled out in this killing space.

A teacher’s books, unread, untaught,
The wisdom in them dearly bought,
Lie buried now in rubble deep,
While ignorance and hatred reap.

So many dreams, so much potential,
Deemed by war as non-essential,
Sacrificed on altars grim,
To satisfy some leader’s whim.

But in these shards of broken dreams,
A mirror to our folly gleams,
Reflecting back the senseless cost,
Of all that’s shattered, all that’s lost.

Let’s gather up these fragments then,
And piece by piece, dream once again,
Of world where peace is not just sought,
But lived, embraced, and dearly bought.

For in the end, when war’s clouds part,
It’s dreams that heal the broken heart,
And from the ashes of the past,
Build futures that in peace will last.