The Extravagant Adventures of a Hopeless Middle Aged Romantic, The Finale:

He came back down to earth, at last,

To get a little rest.

A long siesta, undisturbed,

For he'd lost all that zest.

He reposed like that for many an hour,

Neither good dream, nor bad.

In his mind life had lost all its meaning.

His needles were all that he had.

Syringes and needles and bottles and packets

Of stuff that dreams were made of.

Everyday injected right into his soul,

Sorrow and pain it would ward off.

All his adventures were dreams and fancies,

Each one a narcotic trick;

And that brings to an end the poignant tale of

The hopeless, middle aged romantic.