she confiscated idle thoughts the dreamer cast aside

sold them on to deafest ears, said they belonged to her; she lied

just a waitress in a dark café, where stargazers came to muse

take black coffee, sip cognac, exchanging gifted views


the dreamer never caught her eye, so very lost within himself

claimed the impassive high ground, left her on cold-shoulders shelf

her full-fledged infatuation, an ever complicated thing

still, she had faith in fairy-tales, would be his Queen if he were King


in the clean up after closing time, lay forgotten by the door

a crushed note, scribbled words that told of a refugee, of a war

“Reality stole my sanity, a sniper my true love,

the wild ocean drowned my generation, there is no God above”


when nightmare foretells tragedy, darkest demons take to play

in the shadows of conclusions, is born the hurting castaway

the waitress shared with him small secrets, in return the dreamer spoke of fact

side by side, yet poles apart, a new born love in the abstract





39 thoughts on “LOVE IN ABSTRACT

      1. Tears for effort…the finest tears of all. I agree, ‘well done’ indeed. As Michael Palin in another guise may have put it, ‘my brain hurts’ presently…every time I attempt to add to the book politics comes into the story ruining everything. Cannot rid myself of it, likely never will. Still a new dawn beckons and my big toe is silent once more…big plus to friends and family.

      2. Uncommonly odd…the toe has ceased creating its very own melody presently (true). A plus? The minus, my long forgotten, ‘thought I’d lost it forever’ ‘caffeine allergy’ has taken it’s place. Very much a ‘please God, no!!!!!’ moment. Thoughts of Nicola Skywalker facing down The Tory Empires, Daft Ada or her sister abound.

  1. I think life, eventually squashes the dreamer out, if it works its magic. Great words, agreed with Paul’s comment above, yet I was unable to like it with the foot

  2. Oh my Mike!
    Superb my Friend, and I mean it.
    Absolutely opposite my stile, and therefore absolute…
    Like a maelstrom the words building an imagery in no need of imagination.
    It reminded me of Dark City Connelly’s “Sway”…

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