Once when I was little I asked a woman to marry

and flee with me to a castle I would build for her.

She laughed and said she would, but wanted

to know if I was any good at making castles for damsels

such as she, for I was only four or three.

I said I was and that her house would be made of

solid brick, with walls “this thick” extending my

little arms their widest length. She giggled,

claimed I was cute and that I surely had the strength.

She said she'd wait for me, though I was only four or three,

and be my wife for all her life; so gallant and cute

a boy I was.

The next day I went home and found just one brick.

I didn't promise her a castle made of stick!

It's been thirty-six years since that day.

In my mind I've built castle after castle

but they've all washed away.

I've dreamed of queens and I've dreamed of loves

but they have all been dreams

of what never was.

(Need I say it?  Copyright 2009.)