i am
more like them
than i
knew

de bergerac and quixote

always dreaming
impossible
dreams
of
better places

jousting with
windmills
and struggling to say
love
just right

aching for dulcinea
and
longing for
a
friend
like
sancho panza

i am
at last
a
dreamer

i
write as
cyrano might
to
roxane

but
to
no particular
heart

i only hope
that
she

whomever she might be

one day
reads my
love dipped
prose

when she
does
my love will come
to me

and
together
we will mount
my
snowy white
stallion

riding off
to that
place
of which i've
dreamed

"no matter how
hopeless
no matter how
far"

where windmills
do not wish
to
spar

and where
love
alone
governs the
affairs
of men