Framework of Dreams

In quiet streets, the scaffolding stays, 

A frame that holds the dreams we cannot see. 

Each plank and beam, a dance of held delays, 

A sturdy cradle where we long to be. 

Yet time is slow, like whispers on the breeze, 

While hopes ascend, each layer built with care, 

And through the gaps, the sky’s bright blue conveys, 

The promise of what soon will linger there.

MAD Missy 😠