A Dream
janine canan
The old white house is painted green --
bougainvillea once climbed to the roof,
avocado sheltered my sleep.
Who lives there now? No one I know.
Who lived there -- a dream.
Around the block I ran
to a low brick wall where I sat
drying my tears in pale moonbeams.
Who lives there now? No one I know.
Who lived there -- a dream.
The old house stares in a smog basin --
peach trees gone, rose beds empty
where I made mud pies with honey.
Who lives there now? No one I know.
Who lived there -- a dream.
