Recurrent Dream
Inside a harbor inn
Where fateful voyages begin
An old man waits for me…
I enter, recklessly.
The barmaid brings the jug
And pours him out a frothy mug,
And lights a lamp for him
To read by, in the dim.
The old man wears a mask;
I hear him humorously ask
“Perhaps you care to look
Inside my ledger book?”
Instead, I flee that place—
For he unmasked a grinning face
Whose every crease and line
Was mine, was mine, was mine.
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