Fantasy

He saw her every day on the subway,
Headed into the city
For work.

She was so beautiful,
But at the same time,
So unassuming.

And he dreamed of
What it would be like,
To be hers.

Every morning,
To wake up in her arms.

Every evening,
To be with her,
As the sun set,
On another day
In their lives…
Together.

So every day,
When he saw her,
And entered his dream world,
His mind completed
For him,
The perfect experience
With her.

This mental exercise of desire
Always ended in the same picture
Of them,
Together.

At first,
He thought he would see them
On a fabulous dinner date…
At some exclusive restaurant…
Savoring an exquisite meal,
And expensive wine.

But that’s not what came
To his mind.

Then, he thought,
Most definitely,
That their perfect encounter,
Would be at a premier
Island resort…
White sand,
Deep tans,
And perfect tranquility.

But that was not the final destination
Of his mind,
Either.

No.

Should he ever
Be able to meet,
And be,
With this beautiful woman…

His mind always rested in
The same place.

This place was neither expensive,
Nor exclusive.

No reservations
Were required.

No travel
Was necessary
To take them there.

In his mind,
And in his heart,
He simply wanted
An evening
To cook for her…
Whatever she wanted.

When the question came up
Of what they
Would watch that night,
It didn’t matter to him…
Whatever pleased her.

Simply put,
His fantasy was plain.

The perfect encounter
With this beautiful woman,
Was enjoying
A sunset together,

Serving her,

And having her fall asleep,
Next to him,
Knowing that she was cherished,
And loved,
Above all else.

That…

That was his fantasy.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

 

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