lost dreams poems

After the unicorn and princess daydreams of infancy.
There were ballerina-leanings
pirouetting through her flight-of-fancy mind…
right up and over the cusp of adolescence.
Her teenage years were spent sketching
and moulding clay into clumsy little miracles.
She scribbled the wonderful sounding word
‘Sculptress’ after her name
upon the inside back cover of her diary.
These things are seldom thought of now,
as she stands upon the factory floor assembly line,
where she’s been rooted, imprisoned by poverty
and trapped by circumstance for twenty five years…
gluing the bottom flaps of cardboard boxes together.
They sleep in separate bedrooms at home,
but, still manage to eat a small, plain dinner together…
and she is far too tired, broken and weary to complain.

More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.