Was it my imagination that you smiled deeper, in your eyes when we were together? Was it just in my mind that you and I would not be strangers? Did I see through the disguise or was it just my conception -- a dismissal of the lies.
Was it just my imagination that we met in our dreams? I did not plant you there consciously, although perhaps my needs. Were you really my prince charming, Sir Lancelot? Was I just pretending your touch was sweet when really it was not?
Was it my imagination that you spoke to my heart silently, though audiby, word wishes thoughts? Were you really there all those times, early morning hours when sleep would not close my eyes without your name on my sighs?
Was it just my imagining? I do not know how to pretend.
[This message has been edited by iliana (12-23-2003 11:25 PM).]
Thanks, Michelle. Actually, this poem was written originally from that perspective -- as the years passed, however, I have a completely different perspective on it. I am more of the opinion that Lancelot was, indeed, a charmic connection -- it ended sadly and as truth would have it exactly as the poem questioned. Thanks for reading. .........BEEEEwell