Dream

[Quixote]

Apologies to those who hate blank verse.

 

Just posting this before the night's vision slips away from my mind.  Self inflicted therapy and all that.

 

Wandering the would haves

Were it not fors

(kicking dust bunnies of regret dust streaming in eyes)

Corner turned that wasn?t

Cinnamon scented living room where

We-- I--

No longer live

(burnt bottom cookies that memory mutters she never made)

She tried

But

She never could

Cook

Nor I make tea

(loose leaf Yorkshire steeped three minutes kettle to the pot black only always thanks)

Greying hair

She never had

But wanted

We are

Just there

With burnt cookies

And terrible tea

(sun scratching at window dog stirring softly sleeping still in the space of not now)

We are

Where we never were

But

It?s what we have