Listening to Jim MOrrison one night on the radio, I wondered how many women had listened to that voice and dreamed the impossible...

It’s more than dreams I told him
While he poured me another drink
The time we spent together was real
I remember the taste of his skin
How his hair lay on his brow
I remember the thumbnail he chewed
Till it was sore and bloody
This is not the stuff of dreams
Dreams are wispy and easily flee
When we open our eyes at daybreak
What I felt for him stayed with me
Day and night for those many months
We loved like there were no tomorrow
He sang to me every evening
As the sun went down and the moon
Rose to its full splendor, his voice
His voice was that of an angel
I will admit there was an otherworld quality
About him and all he sang
But this was no ghost, this man I loved
For most of the summer back in ‘95
His hair was still black and his eyes laughed
He stayed with me till the fall
And one night, as suddenly as he came
He was gone, leaving me with sadness
And nothing but a stack of Doors lps
And an undying thirst for what could not have been
My voice trailed off as I grabbed my drink
Hearing the echoes of my words
“…what could not have been”