A Dream Walk

Do I dare walk this twisted mile

Beneath the sway of the weeping willow canopy.

An aire of pecan and clover

Floats on a warm moist wind,

Hypnotizing my senses.

Lured like steel to magnet

I saunter on my dream swept way.

Grassy fields cropped to a dandy’s perfection,

Paint a canvas of green

Dimpled with the smiling faces of daisies.

In the distance,

The silhouette of a weary plow horse

Pinches the emerald horizon,

As it grazes to reinvigorate.

With each yard strode,

A cloud of dust, summoned by my wake

Climbs to the heavens,

Whisked skyward by the tepid breeze.

Stricken by the silence,

Only the swirling song of  Morning Doves for company,

I reminisce of a time before my time.

What simplicity in this wanton beauty,

If only this were home.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

This Must Be Paradise

The band playing,

Something Caribbean and acoustic.

Cigarette smoke swirling,

Thick and dreamy,

Like a storm cloud overhead.

Reminiscent of Bogie and Bacall.

Tropical breezes,

Twisted by bamboo fans,

Deliberate spin.

Ice tinkles as it slides to the bottom of the empty glass.

Another scotch,

Single malt on the rocks.

Humidity in the air,

Sweat streams like the gulf tide.

Cotton shirt,

A combination of moisture and salt.

The pattern of the tropics.

Surf sounds,

Rolling gently,

Up the sugar sand shore.

Moon glistening,

Off the albino caps.

Palm fronds,

Softly rustle high overhead,

Breaking the silhouette,

Of the tangerine moon.

There is no place I’d rather be.

Tropical breeze,

Kettle drums,

Smell of the ocean,

And single malt,

Surely this must be…

Heaven on earth.

~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~