28. back at school.
I stand in front of a sky blue sky
in front of a picture window, on a landing
in my old school
and a big white moon arcs across the sky
from left to right, then stops a moment,
goes back a little,
then carries on it’s travels.
The moon doesn’t do that,
I say to myself,
in which case, I must be dreaming,
so, find your hands,
I say to myself.
I look down and there they are –
not anyone’s hands, but my hands,
and, as Carlos says,
I am now awake within my dream.
After all these years.