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.