Standing in front of the mirror
a tennis racket as a guitar,
looking back at you
is a world famous rock star.
As the music starts
you contort your face,
nodding your head to
the rhythm of the drums and bass.
You swing your arm
in time for the opening riff
whilst checking yourself in the mirror
to admire your quiff.
You spent hundreds of hours
living this fantasy,
a small town boy who became
the biggest star in the galaxy.
Until you were abruptly
brought back down to earth
by your sniggering sisters,
the object of their mirth.
The 50 year old poet 
Beautiful poem
LikeLiked by 2 people