Poems (Rumell)/Lifes dreams

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LIFES DREAMS
It seems that this life is made up of dreams,
Youth dreams only, of life's on coming flow.
Old age looking back o'er the way it has come,
Finds it's joy in dreaming of that long ago.

Dreams, dreams, is it nothing but dreams?
Man is never satisfied with his today.
The joys of this life, grow dearer it seems,
When into our dreams, they have vanished away.

Wo dream of lips, in the past we have kissed,
While hands that we loved, touch ours, it seems.
For years we chase phantoms, that do not exist;
Will all life, in the end, prove but a Dream?

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