The poem describes going back to a time before loss.
Where everything feels normal and loved ones are still there.
But waking up brings the truth that they are gone.
to hold it,
to return,
to reach for what once was.
A broken vase—
yet once, it stood elegant.
A withered flower—
yet once, it bloomed.
So I chose to go back—
to begin again,
to step into the dream
I never stopped dreaming.
And there—
he is.
Not a memory,
but a presence—
untouched by time,
holding a life that never withered.
Alive.
Warm.
Breathing.
And I—
when scars were still a distant story.
“Dad!” I shout,
my voice rushing toward him—
But he is gone.
Again.
A mirage,
after all.
A tear hesitates,
as if falling would mean
accepting the truth.
My breath breaks—
ragged, panicked.
And once again,
I wake.
Not a child,
but the person I’ve become.
I grew up.
My past didn’t.
Once again—
just a dream
I always dreamed.
The flowers are withered.
The vase is broken.
The scars remain.
And he… is no more.
But the memories—
they linger…
and every time I wake,
I lose him
all over again.
Poetry by Elakkiya Chandran M
Read 33 times
Written on 2026-05-21 at 07:28
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Where everything feels normal and loved ones are still there.
But waking up brings the truth that they are gone.
The Dream I Always Dreamed
I always dreamed of this moment—to hold it,
to return,
to reach for what once was.
A broken vase—
yet once, it stood elegant.
A withered flower—
yet once, it bloomed.
So I chose to go back—
to begin again,
to step into the dream
I never stopped dreaming.
And there—
he is.
Not a memory,
but a presence—
untouched by time,
holding a life that never withered.
Alive.
Warm.
Breathing.
And I—
when scars were still a distant story.
“Dad!” I shout,
my voice rushing toward him—
But he is gone.
Again.
A mirage,
after all.
A tear hesitates,
as if falling would mean
accepting the truth.
My breath breaks—
ragged, panicked.
And once again,
I wake.
Not a child,
but the person I’ve become.
I grew up.
My past didn’t.
Once again—
just a dream
I always dreamed.
The flowers are withered.
The vase is broken.
The scars remain.
And he… is no more.
But the memories—
they linger…
and every time I wake,
I lose him
all over again.
Poetry by Elakkiya Chandran M
Read 33 times
Written on 2026-05-21 at 07:28
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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