Just upon a better time
We could set foot to our dreams
We could go to Chicago we could go to Paris
Our fingers could paint
On all white leaves of life
We could turn them Green
We could turn them yellow
We could melodify  
daylines and nightlines
We clould rhythmify this boring world
Just upon an earlier incident
We could touch we could caress
and under the old oak
We could make a good tryst
Alas
Alas
only
upon a better destiny
My poetry could be happier
A.H.