Sometimes,I think of this old flame,
And ponder over this whole love game.
In fact, to be fair,it isnt a game,
But all about this one silly name.
The very thought of the beholder of which,
Caused once for me a complete mood switch.

For naive as I was at that particular age,
I imagined the whole world to be a sage.
And so began my fascination,
Coupled I'm certain, with hallucinations.
How else could I explain stupid old me,
Imagining this world full of fairies,for thee.

But so I thought,when I thought of you,
Waiting for phone calls at one or two,
To talk all sorts of mindless things,
And then wait weeks for the phone to ring.
Or read your letters,and laughed once more,
And soon another letter was at my door.

A musical voice I had when we spoke,
And I rather heard you than the television bloke.
How proud I felt ,of your acheivements big and small,
And any words of praise for you made me stand tall.
Your hurts and sorrows pulled me down,
And,I prayed that things would turn around.

Each morning I awoke with happy thoughts of you,
Without knowing what it meant to be feeling blue.

Many years have passed since that particular phase,
And time has pushed you away into a haze.

You never ever came into my sight,
And yet I dreamt of you at night.

Each morning I awoke with thoughts of you.
How could that phase been so untrue?

Hurt and deceit you offered at will,
And yet I could never wish you ill.
Unworthy though you proved of my affection,
I sincerely wished you a life of direction.
I couldnt hate,and didnt wish to harbour hurt.
So I prayed to Him to step in and assert.

He splashed some water on the canvas of my soul,
And made me fresh and new and whole.

Ironic though are the ways of fate,
For I write today for Mr.Articulate.

Tulip Glossop