Fear no messenger!
Behold the skew with a charm.
A lattice for her mystique.
Infinitely quotable…never disputable.
Only an American Beauty when holding my poor grammar in her hands.
Within seconds she can embellish my pride by provoking a grand stand.
All too often I am composed of complacency to daily duties.
Still, as mystics do, what they do!
My American Beauty can see directly through.
Ceaselessly, I am a pitiful calamity Jane misinterpreting her chores.
I am the forgotten item at a grocery store.
I am a slapstick Jester in the courtship of an American Beauty.
She is a visionary who can see right through me.
Distant cups of love had always been waiting…
willing and able to covet me.
Still, the fortress is pre-made.
A limb from a different kind of loyalty.
Erected of stick and stone.
Embedded upon a ‘last supper’ divided amid…
‘you are on your own.’
I cannot easily locate a trace of love’s loyalty…
higher than embankments shrouded in hypocrisy.
Perhaps, it sets higher in the broken branch of just one tree.
Cavity to a relic bone…
cool cold sets in…dismal and encouraging.
Not among wealth but amid slothful home.
I am ravished in petty accolades.
Never left…unto my own.
Westerly winds itch at the hem of spring’s fertile making of a fool.
However, April promises an essential maverick.
Light of day eases winter’s shame.
Offspring from a December’s nap come out for play.
They clamor and clatter at the air and offer an after bite.
Too soon daylight turns to a fitful night.