DAYDREAMS

I stood in an avenue of tall slender trees,
My hair gently lifted on the evening breeze,
I heard the plaintive call of a whip-poor-will
As I made my way homeward to the top of the hill.

The sky was changing from bright blue to rich gold,
A shepherd with his sheep went by on his way to the fold,
I heard the laughter of children as they played in the glen,
As I made my way home to eat a meal and sit in the den.

Best china was placed on the table with care
Good smell of home cooking filled the air,
A meal fit for a king with my wife standing by,
As I made it home, gave a sweet contented sigh.

Then I tripped on a stone in the exercise yard,
Daydreaming again, my heart broke, life was so hard,
No avenue of trees, or sad whip-poor-will’s call,
No children’s laughter, no home made food, just a stone wall.

M Ann Margetson © January 18, 2001