Saturday, June 17, 2006

The Dream

One night…

…I had a drink.

It was late. I hadn’t drank in a while…

…I thought of a lady, not the one I missed, but another…

…but she was special, non-the-less.

It’s not that she was blonde, or pretty, or shapely. It was nothing like that…

…But she was honest.

She had birthmarks, but no freckles. She didn’t have a body to kill for, just an athletic body. She made me feel like I was doing the right thing.

I was strong, and right, and I made people around me feel like they were strong and correct for how they thought and acted and did, …and they were.

Then I woke up.

And I was sober.

But there was no girl. She called…I mean, a girl called, but not the girl of my dreams.

A girl that drank and smoked and danced; not nearly the girl of my dreams. She had experience; something I missed; lacked. Yet nothing I yearned for.

But I accepted the call...and woke. I didn't drink.

2 comments:

Fenris_Ulf said...

I have found for me the hangover from a dream is easier then the hangover from drinking...

sincerelysober said...

But, your poety sucks.