Friday, 1 March 2019

Making History
Ever since I was a child
they always told me that
I would go down in history.
It’s still too early to know
if they are right.
But I am still to write a poem
that will bring me fame
or paint a masterpiece
that causes people
to stand and gaze
in awe
as it hangs on the gallery wall.
I’ve never been much of an actor
and, to my great regret,
I never could sing in tune.
But a few nights ago,
I had a dream.
I was living in an Old Folks Home
and was upset about something.
In the way of dreams,
I couldn’t remember what
on waking.
But I did remember the protesters
outside,
(well I could always organise a demo,
I learned it first in Primary School),
and the newspaper interviews
in response to the letters I’d written,
(well I was always good at the
‘letters to the editor’ stuff).
I remembered the headlines
locally and nationally
and the fuss.
So at least I made history
in my dream!
The thought amused me
and I related the dream
to my friends.
I thought they’d laugh,
but they didn’t.
They sat there so serious
all nodding
their heads.
They could see it happening,
they said.
So perhaps there is still time
for me
to make history.
Perhaps there is always time
for any of us
to make history.

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