Blue Dream

Poetry by Ted Boughter-Dornfeld Copyright © 2009

Que sera, sera.

Aloft, suspended thoughts fall.

Should I let all rest, so easily?
Ruminations of her memory
Whisper quietly to me.

Soft as though a gentle breeze,
And still she brings me to my knees.
I wish I could ride this zephyr home,
But she rests for nobody.

Consistently erratic,
Her signal’s often static.
I tweak the receivers to get the picture,
Remaining non-pragmatic.

She lives present for a moment,
Then she’s gone for eternity.
Sparking up my strongest affections,
Smothering them delicately.

Should I stay and drift this love supreme,
And further stretch my bluest dream?
Or let rationality reign alone,
And spit me upon the sea?

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