He strayed in Elysian fields
fed eyes and ears on rare
and amazing sights and
sounds, wound down
the windows, felt soft air
flow redolent and neat in
a new Spring’s awakening.
He ate the fruits hung plump
and sweet on trees rich in
nectars until replete and
drowned in a virtual
verisimilitude of imaginings.
There is no other reality known,
he complained, where I can be
as relaxed and as free of grave
contaminants, no place as easy.
Why do I have to be here alone?
© I.D. Carswell 2007-02-08
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