by Norma Crown
A path is set before me.
It meanders to the right.
I cannot see its ending
Although its way is bright.
I take a step upon it
Two, three, and then four more.
I reach a ramshackle building
And find an open door.
Shadows lurk within it.
All is dark and hidden.
I’m frightened and atremble
But I enter it unbidden.
Suddenly I hear a bell.
My telephone is ringing.
The sun is shining brightly
And robins all are singing.
A pox on dreams
That are foreboding.
Their messages sent
Need much encoding.
Is there a doctor in the house?
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