Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
In youth I gathered silver words,
each vow a seed the wind had stirred.
They sparkled bright in morning dew,
each “soon” and “someday” shining true.
But time unveiled their hollow shells,
like lanterns dim where silence dwells.
Well-meaning lips, with tender grace,
spoke promises that left no trace.
I wish I’d learned the lesson fast:
that some bright seeds are not to last.
They bloom in air, not in the earth,
a dream half-formed, yet given worth.
Now wiser, I plant what roots will stay,
I tend the truths that will not stray.
For empty vows may charm the night,
but real love grows by steady light.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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