By Tom Steven

Fantasies in retrospect are but illusions
Of that which might have been,
Dreams of paradise now only
Shadowed memories of the past

Consigned thus by sloth? Timidity? Neglect?
Or pushed aside by newer dreams,
Then these in turn by newer yet?

Progress commonly comes not just from leaders,
But from some who hesitate and look,
Finding treasures overlooked in haste,
Prizes no one thought were there