Nothing

The wind blows softly

Over shattered dreams.

The dreams I had,

The dreams that will never

Come true.

Softly,

Yet harshly it blows

Taking with it everything

I ever knew

Or had.

It’s so cold.

The wind used to be

My friend.

I would run in it,

Tossing my dreams to it

For it to catch,

And it would in turn give me

Much bigger dreams.

Why must things change?

The once sunny skies

Have turned gray.

The once bright flowers

Have wilted.

And with them

My dreams.

There is nothing left.