I keep dreaming of horsemen
waiting for me in the distance.

Some remember the days
of false gardens
when they loved
or thought they did.

Others the books they read
life long companions
to forever lose the thread.

Memory can be molded at will
and then give
what book, garden and love
denied.

I remember things
I never did,
the battles I never
fought.

To Julio Martínez Mesanza

Luis Gil de la Puente

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/6-the-days-of-false-gardens/