I put my dreams in a box,
And bury it beneath the soil.
So that they are safe from my tears,
And despair that at times comes to a boil.

On the occasions when I’m not crying,
And the day is sunny.
And on the moments when I’m not sad,
(Although that sounds funny).

I secretly revisit that place,
And dig out the box.
Then count all the dreams one by one,
And they are all there intact, to myself, I coax.

Being assured that they are safe, happy and gay,
I put them back where they were, and again wait for the day

When I’m not crying,
And the day is sunny.
When I’m not sad,
(Although that sounds funny).