MY TELEPHONE AND ME

April 12, 2003

I'm always dreaming dreams,
And life is never what it seems;
Or do those dreams divine
Conditions I don't own as mine?

Eighteen months I've lived alone,
My closest friend the telephone;
Which causes me to gravitate
Toward looking for another mate.

But as I think of who I am,
I contemplate the awful jam
I would cause a mate to own
If she displaced my telephone.

The dream that came to me last night
Well may touch upon her plight,
Should some brave soul take on my care
Without much God-directed prayer!

Waiting at the altar, my knee was killing me!
My aching back was close behind, and yet I still could see
Two bridesmaids and my bride, dressed in nurse attire,
Walking down the aisle with cheeks of burning fire!

The bouquets which they carried were not flowers, well arranged,
But all this scent and beauty they subtly had exchanged
For bottles tied in clusters, which they humbly would present,
Which looked and smelled, without a doubt, like Watkins Liniment!

To comfort and to counsel I know a mate must do,
But bringing bottled comfort to the altar is something really new!
Awakened from my dream, with just another groan,
I recommitted one more time to my trusty telephone.