Oh how dearly I long and wish
To pop open my pocket lens, studying the dancing fish
To be a person of science in 1865
To yearn to know what makes this world come alive.
Long trench coats dipped in grass and mud
For hours bent over copper, tin or blood.
Oh how I fondly long
To find solace in a quiet birdsong
To be an artisan in 1765, living life so quaint.
How I wish I could be a blur of white and lace
Running down a castle on a dainty chase
By dress floating around me; leaving the ballroom sounds far
My mind focused my own discovery; something akin to a distant star.
Oh how I wish I was around for those sunsets
Ones when the grass and the oceans met
When the world was a mystery, growing loud with life
Where I could rise to the skies in 1655, proving to be more than a mere housewife.
YOU ARE READING
Reverie
PoetryReverie. A state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts. A daydream.
