time does not heal all wounds...

there was a time when i was sleeping. sleeping for a long long time through a exaggerated winter. i didnt know how it felt to be awake. the nights prevailed and the darkness loomed like a enormous black ghost. i wished to dream but i didnt know how! then one fine morning, a morning came to my door and knocked. knocked as smooth as a falling leave on a bright autumn morn. i woke up and started dreaming. it was so mellifluous that it felt like honey. it was so invigorating that i couldnt breathe. and it jabbed a rough edged knife into my heart. i cried in anguish and pain and prayed it not to stop. everyone noticed the tears and said in soothingly voice that 'time, my dear heals all' and patted on my shoulder. it bled and bled as much as a river can hold. eventually it had to stop.

as time passed by i realized that the gushing wound is beginning to mend. i saw myself trying to keep my eyes open but winter came along and the dream ended and left me unconscious. i was trembling from the fear of being thralled by the wintry. i slept like a log. i slept like a broom among brooms in the brooms closet. like a snake in hibernation. but my fairy godmother had pity on me and woke me up again and placed me back in my reverie. and i found out my old wound still can bleed. i sighed a happy sigh. and said to my self- time does not after all heal all wounds. from then on i am trying hard to keep my dream like a dream on a sweet vanilla ice cream.