imagination is a destination
a kind of wonderful…
hallucination
meet me there in rainbow sky’s
home of sanctuary blissful sighs  
where pastel meadows in pinks,
and reds
see, roses spring near river beds
hear the joy of winged angels sing
praising love, and harmony
while dreamlike shadows —
watch over you, and me.

The little Princess looked up at the giants
asking them a question with defiance
“When will I be big? When will I be strong?
I want to leave this place right now.
You see, I don’t think that I belong.”
The giants looked down upon her
(as if they were both quite sure)
“You are a slave. Now be quiet, and behave.
You’ll never be big
You’ll never be strong
You are a slave, and it is here that you belong”
The little Princess knew this was wrong
for she had a faint memory of a Castle,
and rings, and lots of shiny things
of pony’s, and toys
where she was loved by a King,
and Queen with joy.
The little Princess grew up beautiful, and strong —
she sang music, and she wrote songs
Then one day in the forest
she met a Prince who’s name was Lawrence
he’d heard her sing a lovely song
and,
he began to sing along —
he said, “Your parents have been searching for you so long”
and, with tears in her eyes
she whispered,
“You mean I have wings to fly?”
“Yes”, he replied
then he pulled her up so high
shooting under a moonlit sky
to a Castle where she belonged
and, when she woke up
she'd been dreaming all along.

Diana’s been running through dark forests from a man
n’ for years he’s been hunting her
hunting her like a lion because he can
Yeah, he told her I can’t help it
I’m a man, man- man
Diana, he’d say
You —
No, you just don’t understand
this is just the way I am
he’d say he was really sorry/n’ then he’d buy her cards n’ flowers
a week or month would go on by
Diana, never knew when or, why
he would hurt her until she cried
Yeah — he was Dr. Jekyl/he was Dr. Hyde
Yeah — n’ Diana never knew when or, why

Until, it happened, again
n’ again
Diana, he’d say
You —
No, you just don’t understand
this is just the way I am
I’m a man, man, man-
n’ for way too long he tried to buy her silence from his hands
Until one day Diana made a plan
n’ she went n' left that nasty man

Diana’s still hunted to this day
n’ she’s always moving
Yeah, she never stays
he’ll never find her
No, cause she’s gone away
Yeah, she's gone, gone, faraway --

The letter from her mother from another time
reminded her of a loss that she could never find
its ink began fading line by line
her soul left crumpled, and feeling dead
for all the kind words that were never said
a lack of comfort that was never given…
or, ever read --
her only daughter banished away
from her mother to this day
and, so the letter not read collects its dust
because of all the years of broken trust.

over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

or were it better
that we also took a rest?

           * *