Poem

As we forget each new thing, 
Past lost with forgotten dream,
Butterfly, fly away,
Capture a brand-new day.

Fingers crossed, why keep hoping?
Is it that much better than moping?
Stare to the sky, no answers will come, 
Yet it's all the same to some.

Dream tightly clutched as I remember, 
Light from January to December. 
The sun will always rise, the moon will always show, 
But it's my own heart that will give the brightest glow.