The Dream

A pale figure approaches me
Mysterious and inviting
Beckoning, I extend my greetings

Sensing it wants me to take the lead
I boldly step forward, and through a door
Invitation to the past

I see my first school
And the playground whose swings and slides
Served as the springboard for anarchy

I sit down in the huge brown chair
A cushy thrown for me to rule my Saturday
Morning kingdom from, as the mouse wins yet again

I feel the reeds in my hand bend and brake
Responding to my inclinations
Poorly, as the tipi collapses for the third time

Strangely, only the mud room possesses the
Power to corral my racing feet. Still,
Universes bend around my curious mind.

And as I awaken back through that door
Leaving my guide behind
A thought wakes with me

What can I hope for now that I couldn’t imagine then?

So I pack my coat context and hat
Understanding while keeping my journal
Vulnerability safe

And depart back into the realms
Of memory, gladly walking
With whatever bids me welcome

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