A broken dream can leave you wanting more.
It’s sad to see such fantasy depart
And fly up chimneys of the mind’s great store
Of love and hope, at daily journey’s start.
This poem pulls those images back down
And reimplants them in the soil of thought,
Where starlike flowers grow from fertile brown,
And with a golden glow, wait to be brought
To sunny kitchen vases, with green tea
And happy smiling faces, in a place
All lemon-coloured femininity
That makes men full with tenderness and grace.
It was, it is, it will be once again,
When dreams awaken on November ten.
Fri 10 Nov 2006
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