Poetry / I Dream Quixotic

When I was a girl I filled my days with dreams:
I built grand castles on distant moons,
Holding court over a smiling, nodding multitude,
Always admired and always the perfectly happy princess-
In those dreams.

In the nights of my youth,
I’d often have dreams of flying:
The wonderful sensation of weightlessness,
Combined with the eerie perspective-
Above and far beyond the cold, solid earth.

For some time now,
I’ve harbored great dreams of you:
Your beauty is timelessly spellbinding and unequalled,
And you are divinely, perfectly, flawlessly mine-
As you will never in this lifetime be.

Now if you believe that dreams should be maps of the future,
Then I’m as lost a woman as you could ever want to find,
Since my mind moves and my heart beats to nowhere-
Or at least, nowhere real.

But if your head and heart are likewise full of fancy,
Then you know the nourishing power of exploring fantasy:
That sometimes, seeing and knowing and wanting is as good-
Or better than finding-
And attainment is often incidental.

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