Of All My Dreams

Too young to have met his famous father,
I should have said, “‘Rococo’ How I died!”
Or “‘The Smithies’ deserved those awards!”
Or at least, “Your Oscar! The first of many!”

But his eyes were so terrifically green,
his voice so deep and rich, I stood next to him
in the crowd beaming, losing sight of my
mission to get an autograph. As he walked away,
I waved to his back and said, “See ya!” as if it
was certain. As though we had years ahead of us
in which to schmooze.