I'll be Walking Down the Street

There is some unseen,
shimmer'ng, spark'ling future
glitter'n' under the city-light-stars.

Somewhere in Tokyo,
somewhere in Osaka;
some place in the U.S.
where my verse can be read.

In just a few years now,
pecking at morning toast,
sipping my English breakfast tea, I'll

be off to work,

be off to read or write;
to keep books, to write poems,
to study animals, or

whatever I decide to do.

I'll be walking down the street,
in the early spring, smiling,
sweater dress short,
but not too much so.

I'll have two cats in the home,
and a delicate hamster,
twitching his or her whiskers like the trembling rain,

a
perfectly perpetual
smile upon

his
or her
face.

I'll be walking down the street;
the sky will always be dark
but kind,
like a sugar-scented
night;
a gentle moon
and soft downy feathers

litter'n' the ground
below

in my
unseen, perfect city.

And as I walk back home
from work,
I'll be singin',

"There is a spark'ling,
unseen future out there,

with glitter'n' city lights
like stars."