Somewhere in Connecticut

your history echoes through

deserted lots once filled

with travel trailers and Big Top gear

and the breeze over Danbury hills

whispers your name through trees

whose leaves drift down upon the ground

that holds your crypt of bones.

"Dino, the time is coming when you will wake,

but in the meantime you gave me hope."

Somewhere in Connecticut

they remember a fire-eyed boy

whose carnie spirit followed him like a shadow

to the west coast where bright lights

surrounding the gigs and jams and scams

faded to stark ugliness and desolation

in the aftermath of three day binges

and only a handful understood

the perfection that drove you mad.

"Dino, the time is coming when I, too, will sleep,

but in the meantime you made me breathe again."

In the tender lacework of my soul

your magic decorates the maze

and when you open up the gates

I will recognize your eyes and hold your new songs

in my heart, a cloud of jewelled colors

glittering in the timeless time

of time to come.

"Dino, the time is coming."

"For Chester Power" © 2001 Connie Tonsgard