Figment Of Imagination
Poetry By, J. M. Lilin
His eyes, green like the trees, will gleam with solicitous.
I meet him every night, when the stars reflect over the ocean.
He loves to dance and tease, but we both know, it will have to end.
We collect ourselves when the sun is no longer around.
Doubts and hopes are given to each other when the clouds cannot hear.
I feel so free around him, so burden free, but I know it is not real.
He has a voice and his green eyes, oh, so wonderful and full of thoughts.
Yet, his name is a figment from another land.
On top of the hill, far, far above the ferris-wheel of the city.
His smile knocks away the stress of the world’s expectations.
It pushes away all other doubts and dreams hidden in dandelions.
Only his consideration on a rock of hope is in my mind now.
Laying back, we study the atmosphere.
Envisaging the personality from the leaves of the trees.
The words of our conversations and the stars fill the silence.
Eventually though, everything good has to become a simple memory.
He is my closest friend and greatest joy, but he is only imaginary.
He is my own creation, a friend that only I know.
His name is imaginary for he is a solitary figment of imagination.
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