The last leaf in the fall. Still holding on, though, in this the newest of years. Don’t want to get to abstract; but that crown of thorns does not compliment your fair weather hat.
Over years yonder, the needle made love to the vinyl. Hendrix spoke of ‘a broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterdays life’ Black satin and paradise by the dashboard of your super charged powder blue love bug, lights. If only the princess of darkness hadn’t been a friend of the devil. For that devil is no friend of mine. If only an ounce…just one toke over the line, were mere dares to the truth we’d been hoping to find.
Now, though, Sista Diva, with your clenched fist banner high…Over medicated and under wed…where are those dreams you regret.
Now, Sista Diva, callous hands and the promise of procuring a bite from the forbidden fruit…paying the poet pauper her dues. I suspect 1982 looked good on you. Princess with crown of thorns…with all your ‘fuck you’ and roses of bruise and blue.
Twas once upon a time, we had shared a nursery rhym. You played, as always, the diva missing the forever glass slipper. I, of course, portrayed the ugly last sister. Once bitten twice shy, pretty much sums up the rest of my life.
Today, I stumbled into a glorious spring thought, certainly nothing absolute. More akin to resolute compromise and added with a pinch of ME TOO!
One lone broken down last autumn leaf, withered by too much season, yet harboring a strength of beauty and reason…I smiled my smirk. I thought I’d just let you know that past or present…you are still a never satisfied JERK.