My dream

Dad sat at a picnic table
on a green lawn
with a familiar, large, kind lady.

I watched him through the fence
ready to leave.

His head was down.
He was smiling, his old smile.
Laughing with squinting eyes.
He adjusted his glasses
with middle finger and thumb
hand stretched out.

He was my dad again.
The one in my pictures.
The one in my memory.

I tried to get through the fence.
To call to him.
He didn't see me. Didn't hear me.

I couldn't quite reach him.
I couldn't get to him.
I just wanted to
see him again.