Poetry

Growing old

I met a girl who told me, in that way girls have
That there was no way she could love me
And I should choose another,
If it was love I was seeking.
I choose to ignore her words
As I was young and attracted to suffering.
I was grateful she had, at least, briefly considered the matter
And thought to change her mind by being constant.
In reality I see now I’d picked a hopeless case
But the ennui was palpable and day dreams filled my waking hours.
I would go to sleep with warm thoughts about us
And get up reluctantly thinking about us
When there was no us, not on this earth,
Just me and my runaway imagination.
I was foolish and did I mention I was young.
I think I needed something unattainable
As my bit of the great delusion
Before I read the headline, LIFE IS NO FAIRY TALE,
Woke up and smelled the coffee
And crashed into a lesser existence.
Now I’m quite used to telling myself
I don’t want what I think I want
And, as for love, that’s still a throw-away line.

John C W Morris