Death

He died a sad and slow death
It started with the birth of a dream
Colourful, beautiful, full of vigour
The kind that paints reality with hope
Visions of tomorrow dangling on the end of a very long rope
Beckoning
But that didn't last
The rope swung in the wind
First gently, then violently
Bashing the dream against the wall of time
Until, battered and bruised,
It started to fade
At first it did not seem serious
But in time, its light dimmed
And life became about death of the dream