As the last of my dreams
Fade into black,
Those movies of the mind
That take you back,
The Mourning Dove calls
in the pre dawn light.
My eyes blink open
In the cool dark night,
To the hum of the fan
So slowly turning,
Familiar thoughts in
My mind still churning,
From that previous life
In another time,
When the man I am now
Was still in his prime.
What I was then
Still a part of me somehow.
I get to choose
Which parts to avow.
And in so doing
I might yet change the past,
So that in my dreams, at least,
Only the good times will last.