Dreams
Have you ever found a stick
While on a walk
That was so perfect
That you thought
I could be an Olympic fencer
How you would thrust and parry
Through the woods
You would carry yourself
Like an English gentleman
Ready to defend the honour
Of your mother
Should it be called for
But the birds knew better
And kept their insults to themselves
And although you were only twelve
You felt you had lived
A thousand lifetimes
As a warrior who had
Tasted the spoils of battle
But arriving home
You dropped your stick
And gave up on your dreams
Thoughts
No thoughts today. Only thoughts of the stick that got away.
© John Monaghan 2025. All Rights Reserved
