Perhaps I could be accused of trying to solicit pathos. However, that was never my intention. I just like the image that it paints.
LET ME FAIL IN SUNSHINE.
© David Milligan-Croft
I was born for the sun.
To sit in creased, cream flannels,
Specks of red wine on a grubby white shirt,
Dusty feet, naked in espadrilles.
I could think in the sun.
Writing plays of heroes and lovers;
Perhaps my life story, (with an exaggeration or two),
Royalties and rights, money for jam.
I could dream in the sun.
A romance I made up, which lasted forever;
At home, she wore a floral dress, and carved words into paper,
Wherever that was.
I could fail in the sun.
Where tears of remorse dried in the mid-day haze;
Idle dreams floating like ice in a glass,
Slowly, slowly, slipping away.
Eloquent whimsey, lovely phrasing and tone. Well done.
Thank you, Mike. That’s very kind and much appreciated.
Love the idea of ‘idle dreams floating like ice in a glass.’
Why do I think of Prufrock in the context of the whole poem ~ now there’s a compliment! I think the ‘creased, cream flannels’ and his ‘trousers rolled’ are merging …. and I’ve just been eating a peach.
Thanks Jean. I am honoured and flattered to be in such illustrious company!
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Love it; I think that’s my personal favourite DMC work. But now I don’t want to do any of the several hundred things that are on my list today!
Thanks Brian, I’m glad it’s had the desired affect!