Once upon on a lonesome crowd

There was a girl in his mind

She wrote like a fever

And She was a screamer!

He spent his time dreaming her up

Big eyes, dainty hands

Long hair tied into a ponytail

In every blink she spewed out a tale

Slowly but surely over time

His pretty Galatea was born

His world though was a reality check

His house remained a rather small speck

She remained his only lovely reality

Found inspiration where there was none

And wrote up a storm

While his own mind remained torn

But while the love was real

The promises were not

In no future could he have borne

Her needy “Room of One’s Own”

In time the pen fell flat

The hands went coarse

He no let her laugh and cry alone

For from his mind, the girl was gone!


And now here I remain

An afterthought of a man

Joy is always beaten by melancholy

My sorrow is my greatest story!

2 thoughts on “Galatea

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