Flights of Fancy
I’m given to flights of fancy,
‘Well, fancy that you say! ‘
Walter Mitty Syndrome,
A game that mad minds play.
The order of my day.
Stocked with ghosts and phantoms,
Reality at play.
My stories, novels, poems,
Articles and features,
With Ghouls, werewolves and zombies,
They’re bedevilled with such creatures.
– – – – – – – – – –
A mix concocted to bemuse,
Feelings splintered, screams abound,
Shattered dreams and shuttered minds,
Injured hearts, can all be found.
Hatching out new cans of worms,
Striving for that killer effect.
Daydreams and nightmares have their place,
Even the Plague I resurrect.
So when at last I’ve said and done,
Ended my mini-masterpiece.
I’ll settle back, accept the praise,
Waiting for the press release.