What Dreams May Come?



Now you can’t remember

what day it is

Or if this is just a dream

Tis a consummation 

devoutly to be wished.


And you wish 

to go home now,

to be scattered

in the meadow

with the leaves.


These years, the five

and ninety, I wonder

if they seem like just

a few weeks at the lake

when we were small.


Who are these people

in the room,

saying words you cannot

hear, giving you pills,

cleaning you up?


Where is everyone?

When will the war be over?

Who is this child?

For in that sleep,

what dreams may come?