Where were you my nightingale?
Weather like we had today inspires many different emotions for many different people. For people like myself when it’s rainy and wet cold and dreary that when we become warm and contemplative. When the weather is as such we find it to be the best time to have a cup of tea, read the writings of great philosophers, play a beautiful song, and listen and discover our hearts..
Where were you my nightingale?
I had many things to do today on my day off. The last and most important was to go and finally get my hair cut and get my self cleaned up. After I had finished at the salon I traveled to Meijer to get my hunting licenses and pick up some dinner. As I traveled though the produce section I began to plan this meal. I became fixed on the idea of a romantic dinner, so I went in search of the finest cuts of meat, the best vegetables, and wine to complement my meal. I picked up some flowers even to make a center piece.
I got home and I thought to my self how silly it was to be making a romantic evening for me and me; but I couldn’t help it. I began to cook, making what I consider to be the best meal that I’ve ever prepared. I cleaned off the table set a table cloth put out our finest plates and silverware and lit some candles. After I finished cooking I placed the food on my plate making a very beautiful presentation. I pored my self a glass of my favorite red wine, dimmed the lights, turned on the jazz and sat and had my meal.
As I ate I imagined my self reading a poem to the woman that I love, the woman that I had got to such great efforts with this meal for. I imagined her delight in my selection of jazz and her laughter at my chose of Miles Davies three songs in. I finished the main course and prepared desert. Almost as though I was trying to fool my self I took snack pack butterscotch pudding and placed it in a crystal glass, as though I had made it from scratch.
After dinner I went into the living room and lit the candles that I had prepared in there. I got out the desert wine and put away the red that I had over dinner. In the living room I sat at my piano and played music of my own composition. I imagined that she was there to hear it and would take pride in what she had inspired. I played for hours with a world of new emotions reaching my finger tips. I made music that I had only had ever dreamt of making.
I then sat down on the floor on the blanket that I had laid out and read some of my most favorite excerpts from Plato’s symposium.
I later cleaned up the house and put away the candles and awoke to the fact that no one, will ever whish to share these moments with me, and that forever will I be stuck romancing none other then my self.
Where was she my nightingale my crusader of romance.
Sometimes love hurts…. Just a little…
Where were you my nightingale?
I had many things to do today on my day off. The last and most important was to go and finally get my hair cut and get my self cleaned up. After I had finished at the salon I traveled to Meijer to get my hunting licenses and pick up some dinner. As I traveled though the produce section I began to plan this meal. I became fixed on the idea of a romantic dinner, so I went in search of the finest cuts of meat, the best vegetables, and wine to complement my meal. I picked up some flowers even to make a center piece.
I got home and I thought to my self how silly it was to be making a romantic evening for me and me; but I couldn’t help it. I began to cook, making what I consider to be the best meal that I’ve ever prepared. I cleaned off the table set a table cloth put out our finest plates and silverware and lit some candles. After I finished cooking I placed the food on my plate making a very beautiful presentation. I pored my self a glass of my favorite red wine, dimmed the lights, turned on the jazz and sat and had my meal.
As I ate I imagined my self reading a poem to the woman that I love, the woman that I had got to such great efforts with this meal for. I imagined her delight in my selection of jazz and her laughter at my chose of Miles Davies three songs in. I finished the main course and prepared desert. Almost as though I was trying to fool my self I took snack pack butterscotch pudding and placed it in a crystal glass, as though I had made it from scratch.
After dinner I went into the living room and lit the candles that I had prepared in there. I got out the desert wine and put away the red that I had over dinner. In the living room I sat at my piano and played music of my own composition. I imagined that she was there to hear it and would take pride in what she had inspired. I played for hours with a world of new emotions reaching my finger tips. I made music that I had only had ever dreamt of making.
I then sat down on the floor on the blanket that I had laid out and read some of my most favorite excerpts from Plato’s symposium.
I later cleaned up the house and put away the candles and awoke to the fact that no one, will ever whish to share these moments with me, and that forever will I be stuck romancing none other then my self.
Where was she my nightingale my crusader of romance.
Sometimes love hurts…. Just a little…