A Poem

And the things we forget are
The only ones that are real.

And all the things forsaken
Were never ours to hold.

And every time I see you
I remember how to feel

And with every wish that dies
The world's a bit more cold.


There are dreams worth living for
And I think you know that's true.

There's the laughter of the children
And the growth that comes from pain.

There's everything and nothing,
And there's always more to do

There is you and me and what we be
And the smell after the rain.