Here to There

A piece of string
            outside a cage,
a song heard when a child was two,
a face seen waving
                        from a train.
A man walks back from a cliff,
            having seen the fall.
A girl, a boy, a mother, a father, a toy,
   a gun, some money in a safe.
A ring, a card, a tune on a radio,
            a regret never to be repeated,
a town, an ocean, a mountain
                                    in the sky.

 

Some memory, some token for a day.

 

A dream to come true, a wish on a falling star,
a ticket, a letter, a note
                        from a teacher.
Just a little, just a taste,
just a promise with some worth,
a little something to keep or share,
a little something to get from
            here to there.

Dan Fitzgerald is a retired printer and a poet. He lives in Pontiac, Illinois, tending to home and garden.