The dreams by ‘72 were nestled in her head,
A few years after a family friend took them
For a magic carpet ride she would never forget.
“I want one, I’ll have one, someday, someway,” she said.
Eighty-two gave way to ‘92 and the love of a man,
Along with higher education and bills and a career,
And in due time a house, two children, and minivan,
Not merely one, not just two, but eventually three.
The new millennium dawned without mayhem,
And the little boys got big and left the nest.
The jobs came and went with the passing of years,
But not those dreams of the smiling little girl.
Life at the shore with boardwalk strolls and the beach,
Cruising along leisurely on bikes along Ocean Avenue,
Watching the river flow and all kinds of wheels,
Spinning north, south, east, west, on the roads.
The most magical of carpet rides emerges,
Complete with the world’s smallest bow tie.
“We can do this,” her mate declares one spring,
And begins reaching out on their computer and phone.
The waiting list stretches to seven months,
As the details of the dream become clearer,
Then a voice on the phone merrily announces,
“We’re ready to make your dream come true.”
Three months of winter later it’s a reality.
Her blue eyes stare at the long body in disbelief,
The mid-engine roars, the hard roof comes down,
And she smiles while finally driving away in her 22 Dream.
Copyright 2024, Charles A. Bruns
