Many years ago –
when I was young
and ever-spry,

My hairline then
was less receded,
and my stomach tight…

but, I digress;
Where was I?
Oh yes!

I sat and quaffed
a whiskey in a pub
alone one night.

After more than
one or two, it’s true:
my spirit was alight.

And humor too,
it seemed;
I felt courageous
and alive.

And so, I hoped
that happenstance
would take its place
upon my side,

and I decided
to be social –
or at least,
give it a try…

Now, feeling drunk
but hardly daring
I thought it wise
to start by staring
‘round the room
(if only just to
pass some time…)

Perhaps this tactic
would provide me with
the perfect moment

when I would
make a move, if only
I could get the nerve
to strike.

So gaze I did,
and just as well;
for, there was
little chance

I’d quell the urge
to stay there safely
on my own
and fantasize.

And just as I’d
all but resigned,
I caught a
fleeting glimpse

that I would swear
to this day
could’ve been
an angel drifting by.

Says I,
“Lo, what
marvelous thing
is this?

Hath my imagination
gone and run
wildly amiss?”

Dubious, I admit;
I aspire to see
things clearly

“Doth mine eyes
deceive me, merely
to invoke this dithering fit?”

Or something like that…

And now,
thoroughly amazed,
I sit and recount
the drinks I’ve sipped…

For, surely that
would explain it –
this illusion of a myth!
Let’s see…

There’s the whiskey (thrice I filled)
the tequila (that I spilled)
and one mystery concoction
(I don’t think the barkeep billed)…

And still,
she sits there
smiling –
like some bold,
flirtatious siren –

while I, awkward
as a deer gaping
at a blinding light
sit shyly –

And it was then I felt
my head start spinning;
still in utter disbelief
the fates had so aligned.

At first, methought
it was her smile
that petrified me
there for a while;

by her allure,
I tried to pinpoint
my demise…

But in the end,
I’m sure it was
her gorgeous
gazing eyes

that left me
reeling, feeling silly
and completely

About John Chronikal

John Chronikal is a blogger, storyteller, poet, artist, composer, and songwriter. He loves to drink bourbon and write things that make his poor grandmother cringe. He is a gigantic man –– his bear hugs can crush bones –– but he is a gentle giant. Give him bourbon and chocolate and he will be your bestest friend forever. View all posts by John Chronikal

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“The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out.” J.R.R. Tolkien

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