Fetters on a lovely, slow to warm day,
These little chills so oft to stay,
electrocuting shivers, blessed reasons to lay out in the sun,
soaking up the only near-pure resource still around.
Bound by ceaseless wanting to become fertile mire,
Up the roof antenna, the higher to fuel my desire,
Found feeding my fire out back, lonely and cold,
I hope my ghost's hand yours still likes to hold.
Bold you entered my hay fever thoughts a-calling,
With a sweating brow to this subtle air I was stalling,
Sold at last to send an equally daring, but more direct message,
You soon were yielding to massage and choosing to be near.
Fear never gripped me, I was not one to back out,
But a summer dress highlighting my soft tones sometimes lead to a shout,
Ne'er matching that of the gold lion you later gifted,
It sifted my reality and was a remembrance of roars before it.
Sit dear, move not idly, your aurora is what my sprayed Borealis was for an outline,
All along, true, but visit more sensibly, sweet lil 'lin.
It beseeches you, I know, to have known my spirit further through,
Be it so, especially now, when it goes through its next pass.
Lass, you pose, with the finest lips to draw,
Reflect my organized flow of flaws,
Glass shards, fall onto me, the breaks a fancy picture makes,
Doomed To-get-HER-ness, in All, I but what I choose to be.
See, Out it, fall,The worst happening is a happening and still best,
over silent-seething. Rather, give a call in a barren love nest,
Decree bereft of further love calling, the tweeter-peeting of spring,
You bringing loving some/ or-anyway, Is Miss Allison, beyond this seasoned hope.
Nope! I'm set a-drifting, not lost, but for a time before my time.
I'd spit it over the food, if you wouldn't puke at announcement of the crime,
But so tenderly, very nicely, In those nothings uttered, you stow me away,
O light of day! never again bare without between us a pane!
And always stored with the pain, of the illusion of them searching and a hiding me.
But at least, it was never from you.