Her Name Was April Meadows...Couched In A Dream




In the Port of Daven.
sofa-hh from reality,
he would make his day bed,
on a four legged beast,
which carried him
to pastoral places.

Just another recliner,
escaping reality,
head on his arm rest,
arm resting on his head,
he would sail away,
to vast meadows.

A couch potato he was  
planted firmly in its center,
amidst devil's paintbrush
and wild daisies.
Then she would come,
ensconced in a love seat
to be by his side,
whispering sweet
nothings in his ear.

The girl of his dreams,
furnishing him with
many happy afternoons
while stretched out
on the cushions
of his ottoman
and her sweet lips.

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