Don't turn your bowl over.

Okay, fine
you can make a little mess.

I'll clean it up and
we can go outside before I leave.

Don't look at me like that.

You'll be fine, Mom will be home soon
and she's full of love for you.

You'll be fine, I promise.

Don't turn your bowl over.

So smooth and so fair,
fashion isn't really my taste
but her legs are my new favorite accessory.

Whether as a scarf on my neck,
or as a belt cinched to my waist,
**** they sure do look fine wrapped around me.

Circlet of yellow petals
ringed 'round a freckled face of seeds.
Auburn and rose gold,
ever-flowing rivulets of green.

My flower smiles in the dawn,
when the new light touches
and drapes her in radiant balm.
She's always smiling at the sun
with nary the slightest whisper
or hint of an obfuscated qualm.

That fickle sun never says goodbye,
and even on moonless nights
she turns to face the eastern sky.
With her eyes full of the stars above,
she knows that tomorrow will come
and carry with it a brand new sun

to once again set her sights upon.


My sunflower
shining so true,
I know why
I love you.

Ah,
uncaptured thoughts.

There's seldom a prospect more frightening to me,
thus I don a notebook & glorious pen
as my sword and shield
with which I'll tirelessly defend
my ever wavering memory.

I've calluses from working,
but writing always leaves me
with a couple fresh blisters.