A
Dream
You are sitting next to me
at an old picnic table of dark wood
under the foliage of sky-soaring oak
trees.
Far away in the meadow
are shadows of familiar faces
that seem to ignore our presence.
You are moving closer to me,
your scraggly arms reaching out
trying to embrace the elusive girl
--
so elusive that an inch apart
appears like thousands of miles.
The shadows of familiar faces
turn and suddenly rush toward us;
and before they settle down
at the old picnic table of dark wood,
you and I are there no more.
The gentle morning rays
silently sneak into the room, waking me up.
I am lying still in bed,
my eyes wide open,
you are no where to find.
Stretching ahead, lengthwise till
darkness
are the daily chores of a dragging
life.
September 11-September 12, 2019
