Patti Masterman (US)
In the remembered dreams of children, we fly
We fly again to the trees
That once were homes; our forts.
We remember what was forgotten
By force of habit, by hanging years
Upon our aging frames.
Jacks and hopscotch and catching a football
In the front yard, damp grass between our toes
Till dinner, at quarter of seven. We remember
So many things, that once we used to know by heart-
That even at the seventh decade of life,
At the eleventh hour, we haven't forgotten-
Nor shall we soon, forget.
Patti Masterman's Other Poems
- A 17th Century Curse
- A Beakers Full of Love
- A Bear Came To Dinner
- A Beautiful Man's Mind
- A bullet for Lenin
- A Catalogue Of Insomnia
- A circular circumvention
- A Corpse
- A Death That Grieves No Stranger
- A diadem of dust I wear
- A Dialectic
- A Dream
- A Dream For You
- A Fable
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