in stitches and strokes
love gently comes calling
in the form of
such a remarkable yet every day
sort of man
kind as straw is to a weary traveler
on a cold night
with the barn door open
his words envelope
his thoughts embrace
as his poetry cloaks
a battered soul
with a steam roller's pace
I am smitten I must admit
but is it for the man
or the words for me he weaves
are the two separate entities
or intertwined and intermingled
until I can not recognize one
from the other
I like to believe he is his words
and his name is his virtue
does captivation have a face
does morality and wisdom
care to stand up and defend
these feelings that can
not so easily be defined
until there is more than just
an idea of beauty in all these
gathering days
is this a soaring upon illusion
or plunging below delusion
never walk in fear
my soul keeps whispering
steadily in my ear
paint each day given
as lovely a shade as you can
well.............sighs
we sure make a lovely room together
you and I dear sir
I grant you that
but what of the rest of the house
do we even have any rights to that?
ah yes........... I already know your
answer
if indeed it be God willing .....
only then will it be
and these are words I can
live with
and grow strong into
a form of myself I have yet to
meet
as you say the woman extraordinaire
but let's not forget too
the poetess complete
and ready to love
even on a dare....................
(August 13, 2009 137am)