They say a fool is born when another ceases to be
I wonder who departed when I started to see.
This puzzling thought, might seem out of place
But then again, I blabber, with my own shameless grace.
This rhyming sucks coz I am no elegist
Its meaning I barely know or at least the gist.
But I guess it’s justified when a quietly desperate man
Wants to dream about HER, as much as he can.
You see this dreaming takes most of my time
On the roadside, in a rickshaw or even under a stop sign
I find a pretty face and let the reverie take me
To a far off place right next to Tristan and his eternal biwi (Isolde!)
I picture a Kodak moment with every pretty face
Coz it’s the only thing I can do other than tie my shoe lace
Behind every photo I write a fantastic story
But it’s all in my head with no reward and glory.
The story always changes but the plot remains the same
As if all too many photos are displayed in a single frame
My brain tells me the logic, my aortic pump the emotion
But my eyes see the chance I have, with every infatuation.
I dream of the jokes I’ve told too many times
The way she would laugh hearing the stale punch line
I dream of the conversations that would never seem to ensue
The way I would be besotted, regardless of my milieu.
A fool’s hope they say is a fool’s hope after all
But this hope of getting it right makes my skin crawl
This possible humbug may be humbug after all
But my emotions you see, are all over the wall
And yet when I notice another attractive visage
My programmed brain tells me the tactic, the game and her age
On my way to Tristan’s, I chuckle and realize
The girl changes but the fantasy remains the same
The girl changes the fantasy remains the same.