Conjuring up images in the mind of distant historical feelings amassed by senses of sight and thought
Often times I am lost in those worlds of Jane Austen, of the pristine old England, of chivalry and adventure
Until the honking of horns from passing vehicles jolt my senses back to immediate reality
How miserable that man must be who judges his life by comparison to what was wrought in those past
How silly that man must be who weighs the present and builds the future on those false-colored capture
How ludicrous his wit must be who ditches the light and air of this current world for the unreal world of fantasy