Sat upon the novelty of the dance studio floor,
Surveying all the talent judging him like none before.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash through dull fluorescent light-
With thunderbolt’s perfect timing
His twin flame at first sight.
Long, deep, dark, hair, eyes,
Ivory skin.
Crystal resting at her heart-
His taken in,
When all the inner voices
Sing a single melody-
The Beethoveenian chorus
Racing, soaring,“Who is she!?”
Walking past the theater’s long awaited double doors,
The thunderbolt struck twice
Bidding coincidence ignore.
Two classes for two passions,
Twice a week for all of spring.
Rising from the lightning
Grew a twin flames’ smoking ring.
Helás!
Married and with mother’s eyes,
How could he trust his heart?
But being naive spread only
Patience ‘neath the part.
The church would have its way uplifting
Long-winded psalms,
But fewer thanks to Constantine’s
Nicean cherry-picked palms.
Where on earth would then unveil
To unsuspecting she
By high tide’s moonlit poised indifferent
Unassuming sea,
The moment she would crawl into his vulnerable praying arms,
The sky would dilate all her silver
Lining sinning charms.
She would soon regret the pictures
Burned into his sensor,
And never speak to him again.
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
Sat upon the novelty of the dance studio floor,
Surveying all the talent judging him like none before.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash through dull fluorescent light-
With thunderbolt’s perfect timing
His twin flame at first sight.
Long, deep, dark, hair, eyes,
Ivory skin.
Crystal resting at her heart-
His taken in,
When all the inner voices
Sing a single melody-
The Beethoveenian chorus
Racing, soaring,“Who is she!?”
Walking past the theater’s long awaited double doors,
The thunderbolt struck twice
Bidding coincidence ignore.
Two classes for two passions,
Twice a week for all of spring.
Rising from the lightning
Grew a twin flames’ smoking ring.
Helás!
Married and with mother’s eyes,
How could he trust his heart?
But being naive spread only
Patience ‘neath the part.
The church would have its way uplifting
Long-winded psalms,
But fewer thanks to Constantine’s
Nicean cherry-picked palms.
Where on earth would then unveil
To unsuspecting she
By high tide’s moonlit poised indifferent
Unassuming sea,
The moment she would crawl into his vulnerable praying arms,
The sky would dilate all her silver
Lining sinning charms.
She would soon regret the pictures
Burned into his sensor,
And never speak to him again.
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