Heartache, old friend,
pull up a memory,
let’s sit by the fire,
drink a toast to the past.
Remind me of dreams
unfulfilled, unforgotten,
soul without substance
denied ’till the last.
She’ll blow me a kiss
as the train leaves the station;
twin silver rails
lead straight to the stars.
We’ll do a few orbits
buzz constellations,
perhaps a layover
at Venus or Mars.
Bring out the map
of trails untraveled,
of paths not pursued,
and deeds left undone.
The time’s growing short —
tomorrow comes early —
left the last sunset,
I’ve not yet begun.
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Dennis Cardiff: Poems and Prose 
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