The point of the matter a will-o’-the-wisp
to disappear like dew in the day
and take to the trails of fanciful schemes
laid like a road towards definite goals.
I left at seven suitably armed
to restrain that point of the matter
but it wiggled and squirmed out of my grasp
and got lost in the forest of dreams.
And in that forest of numerous dreams
there’s no place for practical matters
and for a time I thought maybe to be
a sidekick to all possibilities.
I dozed in the shade of how life could be
if dreams met on the road towards goals
and walked hand in hand like lovers
to find that proverbial pot of gold.
I awoke with a start; how time deceives
one who projects into lifetimes not yet
and I saw the dew again creeping in
to overlay the point of the matter.
And so the actual point of the matter
too fleeting to make an impression
bemoans its fate time, time again,
like a beautiful woman ignored!