In my room I prepared for the future
reading Alice in Wonderland
from children’s classics, learning the sun
sets outside my window, winking at a poster
of Natalie Wood before bedtime prayers
Until the walls began to shrink-wrap my sanity.
There were other voices.
There were other landscapes.
I ran through gardens where the hedge was high
and flowers burst in kaleidoscope colors,
from inside-out, multi-dimensional
mindfields expanding and contracting.
I then learned of Icarus’ doomed flight.
Big Brother approaching a new dawn;
and that was thirty something years ago,
before two children, six grandchildren,
drinking blackberry brandy on Sunday,
having no work on Monday.
And there are days I close my eyes,
return to my room to rewind.
Always someone or something to remember.
Never enough smiles.