DARE TO DREAM

[Maureen K Clifford]

DARE TO DREAM


He remembered sitting on the floor on cold wet afternoons,
with other children, clustered – mouths agape
all listening to stories the young librarian read
telling of far off lands, daring escapes.
She told of the oasis in the deserts sandy dunes
where the camels belched and lay at rest, cud chewing.
dark Afghan cameleers with sharp sabres glinting bright
waiting in palm trees scant shade for tea still brewing.

The children drank hot chocolate, ate Friday afternoon buns.
To most, the lives they led, would them define.
Their ‘oasis’ cobbled ginnels in the poorer part of town
for where they lived, ‘twas dank and dirty. No sunshine.
But he dreamed. He dreamed a lot. He dreamed of places far away
and he swore from here that one day he’d escape.
He borrowed books, and paid the fine for books he returned late.
Their contents would help him his life reshape.

He thought he’d visit Paris – it was lovely in the Spring
and the Plains of Giza to his fancy beckoned.
He heard the pyramids calling him, he felt desert sands sting
and he counted down the years. Each day, each second.
Now the boy has grown to manhood all the things he once had planned
have come to pass, he works for National Geographic.
He’s seen Australia's deserts, ancient pyramids and more
and he captures all - with pictures photographic.



Maureen Clifford ©

[Maureen K Clifford]

Stephens bloke heading down the track and this bloke could have had a lot in common

[alongtimegone]

Always good to dream a little Maureen. Even at my tender (most parts of me hurts these days) age, I still dream a bit.
Wazza