Andrew Crisci Poet Ballad

His Happy Yesterdays Of Gigolo

It's another bleak Saturday morning
all trees in town drip with warm rain,
in the distance, he hears
the whistle of the departing train...
while sadness and loneliness keep growing,
remembering his happy yesterdays of Gigolo
when he composed that song with a fast tempo. 

His bleak moments spent alone dreaming
aren't those happy yesterdays of Gigolo,
they were cloudless and shone
with the brightest sun rising 
from behind the hills gently swaying;
they brought warmth to his cold window!
Now, the flashbacks bring tons of tears
to the eyes of the loneliest guy
who can't let go of the sensual images,
 can they forever linger on his troubled mind
and comfort him with a silly lie?
Is he willing to forget emotions without a bind?   

His happy yesterdays of Gigolo were made
of adventure, of danger and infatuation;
he dreamed big, and he was awarded 
a trophy for pleasing lusty women. 
Now, he sits alone and grieves
with nothing to be proud of;
he gave up on divine love
to seek earthly pleasures.

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