Fantasy,
or
Wherein the Protagonist finds True Love in the Ephemeral.
By Elizabeth Argall
Biography
A body in mothballs it’s been that way for so
long
awakened by a single touch
I love the way I want you, I love the way you’re wanting me
the details of your hands I can’t describe
Don’t worry about the bedroom, the carpet’s
fine it’s just been cleaned
If the neighbours see I’m sure they wouldn’t mind
The cat will be disdainful and if the damn dog gets to playful
We’ll run away to places we haven’t tried.
I’m delightfully weary falling asleep in the sun
a glow inside and outside reflects
with you without you, my dreams dancing full of you
who could think I would feel so relaxed
One thing about you that’s sorta flawed, I must
confess
Is the fact that you do not exist
But a fantasy is fancy free, it’s almost like you read my mind
And at least I know you’ll never have bad breath.