In my dream, just before the music plays –
I’ve seen this so often over 60 years –
learned all the songs by heart –
I see myself settling on a park bench,
then watch the story unfold around me,
stepped into the action altogether,
no longer just an avid viewer,
but an actual actor playing my part
in support of the show –
I’ve long desired to rewrite.
The problem is that near the end,
always in my dream I’ve come too late,
leaning alone on the footbridge rail,
aware I’m unaware of the wrong time,
knowing I’m not knowing
she’ll never come as I always hope,
realize again I’ll never realize my wish,
always give in to how it goes from there.
She’s gone on to the fairy tale finish.
I see myself,
while the finale unfolds away,
reflected a little wavering
in the barely quiet brook,
but still I smile her all the best
in life beyond the story’s end.