Where Sometimes I Wander Poem by Gordon R Menzies

Sometimes I find my Self wandering
unexpectedly wandering in your dreams
we are holding hands there, running
running to things, running from things
running for trains, backpacks bouncing
I stop and squeeze your small hand
wondering what and why the train is
I sit down by the road as it pulls out
you look at it once, then back at me
and join me in the meadow flowers
where we pull sweet summer clover
suck out the nectar like lazy bees
the train whistle is far away now
but the tracks promise many others,
so cross-legged like seven-year-olds
we rummage through our packs and find
pieces of love and memory in there
like familiar clothing, neatly packed
the grass sways by the tracks of time
you and I in deep cogitation nearby
you pulling petals from a pale gowan
me weaving you a blue sky chicory crown
fondly wondering if there is yet room
in these old worn out packs, for more