Virtual Reality???

He carried the old case carefully,

on it he kept a tight grip.

For he knew with his special guitar,

it would be a long trip.

Armed only with his thoughts,

and his old case,

Blair grabbed his keys,

and left Jim's place.

He parked his car,

and crossed the street.

His feet keeping the rhythm

of his mental beat.

As he walked on stage,

the crowd let out a roar.

The kid played here often,

so they knew what was in store.

He seldom received,

a boo or a hiss.

And there was always a fan,

willing to blow him a kiss.

How many were there,

it was hard to tell.

And as he opened his case,

they began to yell.

Fans were there,

from across the nation.

They took his mind away

from his Sentinel Dissertation.

His body swayed,

with every lick.

The strings vibrated,

beneath his pick.

With his music,

he sat the groove.

For the fans in the audience,

who wanted to move.

The crowd cheered loudly,

as he sang and played.

He smiled as the girls up front screamed,

while to the music their bodies swayed.

Blair couldn't believe this.

It was all so unreal.

Then someone shaking his body,

he was sure he could feel.

Jim stood over him,

offering a gentle prod and a poke.

Thats all it took,

before Blair awoke.

Sitting straight up,

and rubbing the sleep from each eye.

There on the pillow,

he saw the pick lie.

"Get up. Get dressed Cheif."

Was all that Jim had said.

So with one quick glance at the pick,

he hopped out of bed.

Maybe it wasn't something,

he had merely dreamed.

Maybe it was more of a reality,

than it had really seemed.

---

A NOTE FROM DENISE....

As I lay this morning in my bed,

Dr. Seuss began to chant in my head.

I knew it was something

I wanted to write down

so I hopped out of bed

and untangled my night gown.

Around the house

I searched in a hurry,

I found a pen and some paper

and I wrote with fury.

To get this poem down

before it was lost.

It was something I would avoid,

at all costs.

I blame it on the episode,

The Girl Next Door.

You've read the poem,

need I say more???

I know this may sound,

a bit obscure.

But for this rhyming,

I need a cure.

I'm afraid if I don't get it,

It will be just a matter of time,

until my next story,

is written in rhyme.

So if you could please help me,

get Seuss out of my brain.

You would be my Blessed Protector,

and keep me from going insane.

Please don't think of me

as being obsessed.

I am just a tired fan,

in need of some rest.

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