and good friends call and tell of their plans
to travel to places you’ve never seen,
unless you count the pictures on jigsaw
puzzles you’ve solved through the years.
To Frankfurt and Munich and places beyond
where history lives around every turn,
to journey by plane and train and car,
to Vienna and Salzburg and places between,
places you’ve read about but never been.
“And we have tickets,” said Betsey with glee,
to a performance of white horses that dance
in the air, full of grace in your face,
magnificent animals General Patton helped saved,
the famous, incredible Spanish Riding School.
And then she threw the final knife,
“We’re going to see King Ludwig’s place!”
“Neuschwanstein?” you yell with something
quite approaching full jealousy.
Yes, she said, and then:
“Why don’t you come with us?”
You hemmed and you hawed and pondered and thought.
Should I go? Should I not?
Should I sit back and wait,
and study and check my travel budget?
After due diligence—two seconds at least!!!—
You answer, “You bet! When do we leave?”
(March, middle of. I already have my ticket.)