My dreams are evanescent when I wake
And disappear like mists in morning’s dawn—
I briefly glimpse their coattails as they make
Their exits from the stage and then are gone.
Yet it’s enough for me to clearly know
That, moments past, my mind was occupied
By an elaborate and entrancing show,
Which somehow wakefulness cannot abide.
Although I vainly struggle to reclaim
Some vestiges of what’s gone vaporous,
I know tonight there’ll be another game
Of hide and seek. My mind’s voluminous
And houses countless scripts it can produce.
Too bad my memory plays fast and loose.