The appearance of a few grey hairs indicate
It is perhaps too late
For me to love
Thoughts I should shove
To the back of my head
Romance to me should be dead
Yet, irrespective of them
In my mental den
I carry on being romantic
With dreams angelic
The sky of my mind
Is still kind
And forgives me my notions
And applies grey cell lotions
To strengthen my conviction
And my addiction
To caress my obsessions
Without giving me moral lessons
It tells me of my mind
I am the master
Of soft feelings the crafter
The sky of my mind
Forever kind
Allows me colours vibrant
And perfumes fragrant
As if to say
Yes, you may
Live in your own world
With your gentle pearls
Gold and diamonds in your brain can shimmer
You don’t need to lose the glimmer
That the flight of fancy brings
And your imagination is permitted to sing
You are allowed to gloat over nothingness
Without finesse