An Endless Sunday

I dreamed about my dad He was 53 - my age the same age he was when he left us he told me wake up, boy let us go to the stock fair the cow is waiting at the gate let us sell it we will make a pretty penny out of it let us buy a scarf for your mother Jules Verne's books for you a new suit for myself and spend the rest on cigarettes and I woke up I would not say no to my dad but when I opened my eyes I saw a garden full of flowers even the cow my dad was talking about and the cow approached me let me scratch its throat then, of happiness, turned into a cloud and when I looked closer I saw my dad a Seraphim was carrying him on his back and telling him do not be afraid put your hands on my wings keep them loose imagine you are flying after all, it is Sunday like the day you came which is not over yet but my father did not listen to him he was trying to light the same cigarette shouting at me stop dreaming, boy the clouds are gathering in the sky and there is no one to see them let us go we will make a pretty penny out of its we will buy a scarf for your mother and Jules Verne's books for you let us go it is Sunday Death is resting, too her hands are loose an angel is teaching her to fly