Dreams Beyond Forever


A father dreams of getting it right finally,
succumbs to sweat drenched nightmares.

Somewhere he stumbles about,
clearing the room,
guitar,
video games,
posters.

Broad stairs to the garage,
once of stable hardwood,
now rickety rotted support
creaking of memories crushed,
covered once of plush carpet soft with warmth,
now but cold cinders beneath his feet.

Sensory deprivation smiles,
releases starving glimpses of love
once bathed by generous moonlight
spilling from window
to banister,
to door,
to now barren concrete,
where children's eyes once visualized
what freedom's wheels would be like.

The father wanders outside,
stares blankly on the gray-white night
reflecting off algae encrusted pool,
now with but deflated basketball adrift.

Through surrounding weeds and shrubs,
GI Joe action figures shimmer their loneliness as well,
staring like him at the pool's granite carved beachhead,
imagination's vast ocean of backyard fantasy now quiet,
where make-believe war since reduced to the calm of real battles lost
jungle rot's toxic fumes saturating all.

No prisoners taken.

History.

The scuffling of his slippers
rake the humid night's heaviness
like sandpaper dragging across
memory's fine threaded tapestry.

Lying down among the overgrowth,
he peers through broken limbs,
crumbling leaves,
moon,
water,
house.

Eyes squeezed shut deliver regret's creative gallery,
a lifetime installation perhaps never meant to be walked through.

Yet...

Such are musings
sometimes destined
to be but sleeping enigmas,
while dreams remain forever,
awake in the heart.