Spring Dreams
With two cats on his lap
a fond woman at his side
(sure she’s not a blond
can’t recall her teens
but still able enough
and most times willing)
he could be mildly happy,
mourns instead the past
he thinks he should have had;
wears discontent most days till night
but then – ah then – realities
he cannot, dare not remember
ambush him in dreams
demanding to be lived again.
J C Sturm