We dream in Ideals
Platonic Constants, never real
Vague and faceless always
Evoking Emotion
.
Dinner cooked and wine drank
The teapot is on
Subdued sight in holiday light
Gentle sounds, vinyl jazz night
.
They, he and she, exhaling smoke
And laughter
Big wooly hugs and smiles
Saying more than any words could
.
Across backyards, fences and electric lines
A woman in a window sees
This couple sharing, sharing, sharing
And is confused
Seeing for real
The Ideal
ttyyyyllleerr said,
May 12, 2008 at 2:17 pm
It’s sorta sad.
If i’m reading it right, she has always wanted the Ideal and this is the first time she’s seen it. Which the ideal is real love.
Am I right?
lol
adkdecap said,
May 12, 2008 at 3:00 pm
Yep, you got it. I always get hit with a little bit of confusion, more impressed amazement these days I guess, when I actually see true love.
Not puppy love, not young love, but real yeah-they-got-it-no-doubt! kinda love.