I had a dream last night, and Jane was in it.
Just towards the end, not quite a minute.
For some reason, I was lying supine, in a chair
And for the first time, I knew her by her voice, and not her hair.
At some stage she’d tossed cards into my lap
Onto my rug, awoke me from my nap
There was some comment, smiling; I’d impressed her mother.
She turned to go, but I reached out to keep her near.
I do not know at all why she was there
Or for that matter my part in this affair
She smiled again, turned to me, stayed to talk
with me; A blessing, for I could not walk.
That’s all I can recall of that short dream
I woke to start my day with shaving cream
And here I am, no further in my life than then
Obsessed by thoughts of Jane.