Holiday brochure...

Irma, My Waussie,

It's almost twelve he put some things in a row, Do not know why. Some simple questions cross his mind, Dancing slowly passing by. He try's to let it go.So many thoughts turn things upside down. And it is almost one, And the night is slow running, Until it is done. The clock so nearly two. Blankets roll slowly away from him. Thinking of her, Damn what a strange motion to do. Loudly ask the questions, But it is silent ceiling on all fronts.

He shout in silence. The world is asleep, But he,s full of energy. My goodness how time flies to see, It's been more than five minutes to three. Sleepless nights and woke up with his eyes wide, Damn mind already love light. Another again that night, Yes he endure difficult. Restless hours he try with all their might, But he's nearly overtaken by the night. five past and he follow a shadow on the wall, Out for a drink, But it is gasoline on a fire afther all.

Damn why love makes it so dificult. Behind his patch he's writes in full swing, The night is almost over, Now it's seven. One o'clock in the afthernoon, His world collapses. Hobble around the room like a mop away from the light. He's tired to do much, But it has all the feeling. It sounds anecdotal, But it's true, He still loves her, Really. Antibes with her is like stepping into a holiday brochure drive around with him next to his dream,

Irma, My Waussie, His own afhrodite.