Wishful Thoughts

Fragrance of wild honeysuckle
teases me awake from dream
and I am imprisoned once again
in this aging shell of flesh

I rise gingerly from my bed
and stumble towards my morning's need
afterwards, sadly flushing away
the nectar imbibed in night's adventures

Gone is the dragon I slew,
the comrades I feasted with,
and the enchantress that embraced me
is but a fading vision of myopic eyes

What can this day grant me
that I did not glean threefold from sleep?
only weariness, tedium, and an
emptiness of soul too deep to fill

The waking world is true nightmare
slowly gnawing away one's will
and forcing once strong passion
into a dungeon of despair

My fevered prayer is only this,
to walk again beside a sea
where mermaids dance with fishes
and deeply breath of sweet, eternal youth

C.  Lon  R.  Bruso