I dreamed about you,
In the early morning night,
Bright red lips,
Dark eyes and hair,
Pure white skin,
Intelligent and Innocent.
I never knew – man or woman – anyone both intelligent and innocent.
I then realised,
In the slumber,
It was fantasy,
A drug for escape,
A mood for comfort,
A Life Satisfaction.
There is no angst.
There is no grief.
There is no pain.
It is not memory,
A bothersome thing.
It is not design,
A plan sure to fail.
It is fantasy,
An idealised love.
Yet I am pleased,
To arise from such
A drug induced state.
Refreshed with
Hope dimly held.
Are you out there?
Or be a figment,
Of a lonely mind.

Image: Illustration 176525192 © Marza | Dreamstime.com
Neville Buch
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