As a girl sitting in the backseat
of the '52 Packard my nose
pressed the glass of the window As
my father drove us through the
Country Club Plaza As
I dreamt
of living there
when grown and
sleek and
independent.
As a woman with a career,
I moved from Iowa to a job
within blocks of the Plaza and
I lived on Ward
Parkway across from Brush
Creek in an elegant brick
building named Carlyle,
after the poet. And
I became a poet
while living on "Poets Row"
walking romantic evening walks
through streets lined with
diamonds.
Enchanted, I drove from work to home
through the Plaza holiday lights and
sometimes wept with joy As
I was finally, really home As
life turned simple amongst ornate mosaic towers and
red tiled roofs of rose stucco buildings.
I was where I had always wanted to be --
Imagine, dreams waking as you walk through them
You live in them As they happen and
they become
no longer dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment