The Weaver's Dream

Within the quiet mind, a loom,

Where threads of hope can find their room.

A silver strand of what could be,

Woven for the heart to see.

This fragile cloth, a silent art,

Is made to guard a hopeful heart.

It isn’t real, not yet, it’s true,

Just a whisper, fresh and new.

So hold it close when shadows fall,

And listen to its silent call.

For in that dream, a strength is spun,

Until a newer day's begun.