Young love she brought back for ever
with her wrinkly skin turned silky,
her impassive eyes turned to passion,
her tranquil heart turned to turbulence,
her retired mind full of sexual desire,
her retired lifestyle revitalized,
as the much younger man
stepped before her.
 
As she let her fantasies consumer her,
he was her lover and she was his beloved.
They danced together and
made passionate love.
 
But as fantasies are only fantasies
and reality is always reality,
in his eyes, she was just a confidant,
and in her eyes, he was her lover.
As her fantasies led her to his bed,
they let her down when he
refused her advances.
 
As her fantasy crashed and burned,
it took her down with it.
She stayed at the bottom
until she realized that’s no place for her.
She picked herself up and
became a back to normal,
contented person because of it,
realizing that she couldn’t fight
Father Time anymore.
He is always in control.
 
 
 
Fantasy boosts the spirit
and reality brings it back down.
It is fun to dream
but necessary to
recognize it as only a dream.

I was watching a movie called "Hello, My Name is Doris," with Sally Field, as Doris. It touched my heart, so I wrote a poem (review?) about it.

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