Dreams

I wanted to go England,
and be a Beatrice Potter,
and write lots of famous books.

I wanted to go Russia,
and be a bolshoi ballet dancer,
and do piruettes.

I wanted to go France,
and be a Claude Monet,
and be awed for my water lilies.

I wanted to go Japan,
and be a Geisha,
and wear the graceful kimono.

I wanted to go Romania,
and be a Nadia Comaneci,
and be a champion scoring a ten in the Olympics.

I wanted to go Canada,
and be in the Cirque du Soleil,
and be a trapeze artist flying in the air.

"Mum! your food is burning!"

Alas, that charcoal smell vanished my dreams.
I am no where but in my hot kitchen,
wearing my old stained apron.
Serving my boring food to my equally boring husband.

Please, dreams, come back.