i pour a glass
of sentiments
and slowly
allow them
to roll
down my throat
suddenly the past
comes alive
in the hive
of my head
buzzing
with past events
conversations
never held
loves never loved
the lost dreams
that fantasy finds
in those moments
only lived
in some imaginary
landscape
drawn using pens
filled with invisible ink
showing tales
of slain dragons
pledges sworn
conquests made
in another place
another time
never known
...george, i'm so lengthy...this time i'll say...mmmmm, i like the way this one talked to ME and i know the place that you didn't name...george, this is stout...peace, charlie
