The Dream Deferred

In the attic of my mind, there’s a box I keep,

Dusty and worn, buried deep.

Inside it hums a melody, faint but clear,

A song I once sang without fear.

At twenty-two, the world was a stage,

I held a pen, I filled the page.

But the ink ran dry, the words fell flat,

And I folded my dreams, just like that.

I traded my guitar for a suit and tie,

Chased the clock as the years flew by.

Now the strings are silent, the frets collect rust,

And the music I loved fades into dust.

But sometimes, in the quiet of the night,

I hear a whisper, a faint delight.

It calls me back to that younger me,

To the life I dreamed, wild and free.

What if I had strummed just one more chord?

What if I had dared to strike a chord?

Would the world have listened, would it have cared,

Or was it safer to leave it unimpaired?

Now I sit here, past thirty years,

With a heart full of laughter, a face full of tears.

The dream deferred, it still remains,

A ghost in the shadows, a quiet refrain.

So I ask you now, as the years unfold,

Hold tight to your dreams, be brave, be bold.

For the weight of regret is a heavy stone,

And the dreams you bury may never be known.