Mirage
There it was, my thoughts now plentiful
So ‘tis that my imagination running wild
Doth my eyes be deceitful?
A woman so fair and mild
But behold, my mind lends trickery
To visions of fiction
A complex dream, so persnickety
My heart feels away not explicable by diction
How can this be?
For I eat and drink interminably, and am of great health
For it is not what I imagine, but see
A woman appearing before me of great wealth
It is so, that by my eyes I have sight
But not all things seen, are proven right
Copyright © Andrew Yates | Year Posted 2014
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