DINNER TIME
Do we sometimes bask in our delusions,
And become tourists in lands that never were?
-Anon.
I am not fooled
By this cool wind
In my face
I know that what I ride
Is no horse
This swing
Takes us
High and low
Forward and backward
Nowhere, fast
It’ll soon be dark
Daddy wants you home
There’s a tall guest
For dinner,
For you
It’s in your eyes-
You’d rather stay
But you are a good girl
You should go home
For dinner
Send my regards
to Uncle Ralph
Tell of us, if you can
and of the swing
I now ride alone
Don’t look back
I have no last request
I won’t ask you
Not to leave me here
You’ve been out too long
You’d best be gone
Dinner is served
I won’t walk with you
Halfway home
And watch you disappear
I won’t stand, teary-eyed
Wishing you could stay
I’ll drown my soul
In the odd creaks
Of my offbeat swing
I’ve no illusions
Of space at the oak table
Besides, I reckon
the exquisite meals
Might upset my common stomach
But please
Don’t think I do not bleed
I hate myself
For getting used to wine
I cannot afford
Be kind to me
Don’t make me say goodbye
I can’t afford memories-
They are too big
For my little heart
So run along my dear
Don’t shed a tear for me
Don’t keep them waiting
I can hear Uncle Ralph calling:
Your dinner is getting cold!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem