Waking Up

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.