Your warmth soaks
within me as steeping tea
sitting in the sun, bitterly keeping me
up at night for far too long, and my only
Apothecary is song poetry--
Sonnet therapy: and where would I be
Without it? Probably two-faced pleading,
“Let us in!”
Living out of a suitcase
needing any food for thought, say fruitcakes.
Even the worst delicacies need eating.
So here you have it, oh please keep reading,
because without your ensconced eyes--thing
is that it’s premature failure singing
the truth back in a looping direction--
because fresh eyes see no lies, inspecting
the thoughts of two minds combined on one page.
Poem by one another, and you know ‘em
as yours truly, whose life is lived on stage.
So um, I guess, where is it we go from
here? How about eternity beyond all age--
from the forest through the prairie until
the land becomes sand bordering the sea.
Word of the day:
- elation - def: a feeling of exultant joy or pride; high spirits
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