No, I don't write much poetry anymore. But inspiration sometimes comes when you least expect it. Like when you're at a party and wind up in the orbit of an egomaniac.
You know the type--the man or woman who rambles on and on about themselves while you just stand there nodding. You've stopped listening long ago, but they don't realize it because they don't care.
There's a place I go during those times--a safe haven, my own personal Brigadoon. So if you see me at a party, looking all dreamy-eyed, you'll know where I've gone off to . . .
You know the type--the man or woman who rambles on and on about themselves while you just stand there nodding. You've stopped listening long ago, but they don't realize it because they don't care.
There's a place I go during those times--a safe haven, my own personal Brigadoon. So if you see me at a party, looking all dreamy-eyed, you'll know where I've gone off to . . .
