TROY poem

Troy

Remember the morning
we sat around our kitchen table,
the round one bought from
Uncle Moody and pretended we won a
million dollars?

You and I and mom and
Wally, our lottery ticket before us
as if we’d already won—
the farm for grandma and presents
for the needy.

That night after the draw
came and went
you called from your room
and asked, ”Is it alright to dream
like we did?” And I said,
“Yes son.”

© 1998 Richard L. Provencher
All Rights Reserved

first published Spring 1998
Volume XIV Number One
The Cormorant, Saint John Campus
The University of New Brunswick
ISSN 1194-739X