we build our dreams
childlike fantasies.
versions of life
that propel
and inspire.
what hurts the most
isn’t the unattainable fantasy
but the almost real.
within reach.
close enough to touch.
mirages.
that slip through our fingers
like rock turned to sand
and so,
we pick ourselves up
and start again.
the undergrowth. 
“mirages.
that slip through our fingers
like rock turned to sand”
That is beautiful! Actually, this whole poem is. Love it! 👏❤
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Thank you wardah!!
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Of course x
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Beautiful! ❤️
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Thank you ! So appreciated xx
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