dreams of dishwater days never returning,
rescue by some knightly hand
fade into days duller than any ditch
you miss the courtyard, the stablemen
sancho is funny, he loves you
you get each other, he is a true love
yet a spark that kept your hot eyes
burning like bad pools of hate
might have been pleasure
now confusion is reigning
everything is muddy, ruined
all you are is really in one tin
reflection, of a barber bowl
lost grail of a bad girl who misses
knightly courtship, but lost her chance
now sancho is love, food, comfort
your song is gone
not even sad songs come
from the well you tend
bereft of quest
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
dreams of dishwater days never returning,
rescue by some knightly hand
fade into days duller than any ditch
you miss the courtyard, the stablemen
sancho is funny, he loves you
you get each other, he is a true love
yet a spark that kept your hot eyes
burning like bad pools of hate
might have been pleasure
now confusion is reigning
everything is muddy, ruined
all you are is really in one tin
reflection, of a barber bowl
lost grail of a bad girl who misses
knightly courtship, but lost her chance
now sancho is love, food, comfort
your song is gone
not even sad songs come
from the well you tend
bereft of quest
I read in a novel that Man of La Mancha has a gang **** in it. I had already written this poem, or had I? Subtle is our Jungian brain. I don't want subtle right now.