As a girl sitting in the backseat
of the '52 Packard    my nose
pressed the glass of the window    As
my father drove us through the
Country Club Plaza    As
    I dreamt
of living there
when grown and
sleek and
independent.
As a woman with a career,
I moved from Iowa to a job
within blocks of the Plaza    and
I lived on Ward
Parkway across from Brush
Creek    in an elegant brick
building named Carlyle,
after the poet.    And
I became a poet
while living on "Poets Row"
walking romantic evening walks
through streets lined with
diamonds.
Enchanted, I drove from work to home
through the Plaza holiday lights    and 
sometimes wept with joy    As
I was finally, really home    As
life turned simple amongst ornate mosaic towers and 
red tiled roofs of rose stucco buildings.
I was where I had always wanted to be --
Imagine, dreams waking as you walk through them
You live in them    As they happen    and
they become
no longer dreams.
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