Away across town, bright lights are glowing She sits alone, but can’t avoid knowing Her invitation wasn’t lost in the mail She wants to be special - she’s obviously failed. A bottle of scotch, the best she could find Hasn’t helped the hurt that gnaws at her mind. Another is dancing in her lover’s arms And she’s here - sadly lacking in charms. The tears drip down though she’s vowed not to weep With a sob and a hiccup, she slips into sleep For in her dreams, she’s the belle of the ball Admired by many and accepted by all. And no little slut could stand a chance To interrupt this dream romance! Entirely too soon the clock strikes midnight Maybe just one more drink will make things all right.
....and, as she dreams of her wonderful fella, Asleep, in her dream, she becomes Cinderella. In her pumpkin-turned-coach she attends a grand ball Where champagne freely flows and she is loved by all. She is whisked off her feet by a handsome young prince Who made love in a way she has never known since And a face comes to mind that she really does know As she dreams that the pumpkin reminds her of Toe!
A poem so sad makes me feel wanting to chance her life Makes me wanting to strife Well written the matter of love and despair A dream perhaps will help to clear the air A poem so sad, I feel for her Nicely done suthern
The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools.
Florida's Foreverly Shores
*dabs at eyes with hankie* wow, what sad piece....I felt like I was that girl. Good job, and I hope it isn't true. And if it is, well, you can borrow my Daddies shot gun, i'm sure we can find that lil ole party....
"Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me."
on the threshold of a dream