Sentinel Poetry Magazine December 2002


A Song To The Dreamer

I pray that sometime soon your dream would fruit
Like in one of those good old sweet fairytales
Where  I come, a knight in shining armour,
Sweep you with burning desire off your feet
To a royal life of pomp and desecrated opulence.
But why is it you cannot dream plausible dreams?
I am, I think, likelier to come in a T-shirt and jeans.
Dinner may not be more than baked beans and eggs
But for you, I will lay out all substances of my life,
For whenever I see tomorrow, it is you and me
Walking, one wrinkling arm in one wrinkling arm
Two wide toothless smiles outshining the sun
By a fine little cottage littered with grandchildren
Afire with their endless questions and endless chatter.

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