Greetings
Love.
I
wish to float, and spin a tale, more to fever. Its crayon tears,
and
childhood fears, to love a daisy. I see for light, a sullen
soul,
to sprinkle joy. She’s more electric, reading Homer, and
kissing
softly; or maybe not, for mother watches, and God
glistens.
I spare an angel, and court a spirit, ten miles adrift.
We
gamble hearts, afraid to speak, as not to rustle bushes;
but
ever a star, to speak for word, a cord of infants. I feel you,
a
hand to heart, to generate chi. I hear you, a short debate, and
storming
off. It’s hard to smile it, a tedious pain, trekking
through
a garden; but know for love, sitting still, to polish gray.
I’m
topaz blue, spinning a project, and holding back. It’s a
deep
secret, ever a charm, the arm of life. I love a soul, to
skate
a ramp, and leap her eyes. Is it there, a tender woe,
grieving
for ink? We flit to fly, flickering flares, a fire’s furry.
I
thought for silence, where love blossoms, a yellow diamond;
but
night tugs, an image bear, to tremble with fear. Many to
warn,
to hear for how, as naked as newborns. Pierce internal,
a
precious swan, to feel her speak; and mold a sister, to fly
freely,
a soaring flame; for life’s a symbol, a village of love,
to
filter friends. I end—to utter for love and butterflies.
