Anapestic

One morning, while sleeping right next to the phone,
I grabbed the receiver and heard quite a tone;
A beautiful voice was just ringing with glee.
I think it was happy to talk, and with me.

And she said, "I remember the way that you'd look
While you honestly laughed at the way that I took
All your ventricles, atriums-- all of your heart--
And I'd kiss it and innocence with us would part
To the fields where our wrestling wasn't a curse,
And the grass left no stain on our clothes or our mirth."

"I remember the way that your heart would kiss back
As if shyness and manhood and wisdom it lacked.
But your heart in your lips also spoke, not just kissed,
The words gentle yet firm, always smooth, never hissed;
You would speak of the white picket fence we would have
With your white picket teeth glowing bright while you laugh."

"To you the word marriage meant nothing but me
And the God whom you loved, in a song would agree.
With your heart in your lips and my heart in my throat
I would say, "Though your tongues' of an angel I quote
From my verse of the day through which God has revealed
That I shouldn't love you and here's how it was sealed;
"It is good for a man not to marry." so I
Think I'll take that to heart and I'll bid you good bye."
Here you cried and you said through a breathless exhaust,
"Does this mean that the love I have given is lost?""

O, if I could have seen her fair face through the line
And if one hazel Iris that used to be mine
Was just weeping a lonesome and singular tear
I'd have fallen apart, but instead with a sneer
She then gave me the wonderful theme of the call;
That is, "Laugh at your folly in love!" Then she hung up.

As Winter is wandering, no longer to loom,
A choir of flowers is starting to bloom.
This scene is too pretty to taint with a man,
So instead comes a boy reaching down with his hand
To a Daisy, the prettiest flower to sing.
His expression is moved from a sober down swing
To a face full of hope and of wishful intent.
His eyebrows now bow and he looks discontent,
Like he wishes the Daisy a different flower,
A Tulip, perhaps, something showing the power
Of God more completely, but then the boy blinks.
His eyes seem to listen; his eyebrows unkink.
What he hears is unknown, but he pulls from his pocket
A letter with perfume, a picture, a locket.
He smiles, uncertain, and says the words sweetly,
"She loves me." He pauses and sighs very deeply.
He picks the first petal and closes his eyes.
The Daisy, it seems, stops singing and cries
For the fear of the dangerous words coming soon.
The choir's beginning to darken its tune
To a mournful display of the Daisy's dismay,
But the boy only hears what his girlfriend would say
When he reads her sweet letter his lips mouth the words,
"Truly blessed to love you," and he thinks of the chords
Of a song that she sang to him once about God.
As his mind is reminded, again his lips nod,
"I thank you God," and he looks at the picture.
His nose sips the perfume and his ears feel the texture
Of the canticle key-change. His frown melts away
Like Winter to spring and his heart sings the lay.
The Daisy, soprano, coos joyfully high
As her petals are taken, to tell them good-bye.
The boy's smile grows certain and certainly lovely.
He shouts now, "She loves me. She loves me. She loves me."