Before the Parade
In my dream, there’d be a huge parade
Proceeding down my block
And as they reached my building,
I would join the marching flock.
I waited, wearing gypsy garb,
In need of some caffeine,
Pacing nervously ‘cause I forgot
To bring my tambourine.
The elevator opened and
My father stepped outside,
A carton in his hands with snacks
He’d promised to provide.
“Look what I’ve got – brown pears!” he said.
“The kind you always buy!”
He also had my tambourine,
Which almost made me cry.
I woke up then, before the march,
But felt an inner glow
From the visit with my dad, who died
Some forty years ago.
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