Everything fashioned He perfect and good:
Every animal, creeping thing, fish and bird.
And over them all in a delirious mood
He created man and made him their lord--
To dress and keep Eden--those to name.
And so it was, whatever he did proclaim.

Albeit man the crown of God's creation
Became the Almighty's lone sorrow:
For his heart with many an evil invention
Was filled, constantly and vehemenly so.

It grieved God thus that He'd formed him--
Who was His likeness--His creation's cream.

That summer day afore I did depart:
Like those merchant ships of Tarshish
Which sailed not once from their home port
Were my words affectionate to that dish,
They never my mouth left to her ears forth,
Failing her feelings as a buckleless belt
A sagging trouser. Though cold feet I felt
Nay; howbeit it's for her squeamish heart.
Yet I, beholding her supine in her pink bikini
On the beach with a lollipop, was musing honey.

In life you play the hand that you are dealt
doesn't matter where you have been or how you felt

People come and go all the time
and we may never know the reason
Sometimes they stay long enough for a sad goodbye
other times just for a change in season

All the memories I don't want to fade away
are all wrote down and in a box they stay
This red box of mine stays very close by
as a reminder of all the what ifs, the has beens, or whys

These memories weigh heavy on my each and every part
but especially on this red box....the box I call my heart!

Staring what do you see?
                               While looking right through me!

cramped in the close quarters of my logic
there's a painting party going on.

but i've brought some shellac to seal
the tender places, the cut out picture postcards
of memories i saved, savor, slave over so carefully.
their disconnected connections splayed upon my walls.

i should paint over them, i know.
i should cover them over with a nice, bright white.

but the colors, the patterns, they
are a blueprint on the bones of my house.

they are my proof, my logical proof of illogical theories.
my picture postcards of impossible possibilities.

the decoupage of dreams' dalliance
dances upon these walls, definitively,

the cogent evidence of our coup de coeur.