The Hitchhiking Soul

Written
1997

 Lover's imaginations coupled,

      a flying carpet

      to travel to far away places.

In each other's company,

      shared thoughts become spring boards

       for whimsical journeys.

The silver frost on the park's brown winter lawn

       a staging point to an another day,

       another country.

Will it be the Green of my Valley,

       the dank and dark

       coal camps of a long winter's eve

       or the rare sun on the English castle?

A song carpet fuel to sunsets

       and firefly lights across a bridge.

A map, a book and a bottle of wine,  

       props for a return

      to yesterday's love stage.

Spotlighted jazz from

       an actor in our play

       with love we sail free of geography

        to a place where only we live

        coupled in intimacy.

A map without boundaries.

Only our imagination.

 

 

Notes
Some days my imagination gets the best of me. The nice thing about it I get back from such trips easily and early. I the forget the poem that took me there. One thing about writing when senility is just a breath away is that you forget and discover poetry of yesteryear.