~

a critique... an exposé

~

he is to prose
what twilight is
to coming night.
he, no ordinary cup,
though to this reader
coffee no less loved,
but ’tis far less apropos,
than mulled with wine
at sipping time;
when words begin
to simmer,
slipping slowly,
slightly,
off the tongue;
when evening’s ease
has just begun.
its colors melting
stress away,
like dusk's caress
from heat of day,
his soothing ink
on parchment flows,
like savored sips
of sunset's glow
his ray of hope,
finds its way
through my window,
through my blinds;
strikes and
steals my heart,
his words
like soil finds
seeds that root,
that grow,
that sprout,
that bloom,
to fill this heart,
that is
my reading room,
and bid my entry
once again,
the safety
of a harbor... his,
this place
that renews...
that makes me whole!

~

*post script.

as my own bio reads,
“mostly i write, to and of, they
who offer this heart safe harbor.“
his step into my heart with this,
his ink on parchment, my soul’s bliss;
my thinly disguised tribute and review of Joe Adomavichia’s published works of his best prose, “A Step Into My Heart”!  

look, i’m a guy... you think i’m just gonna come straight out and admit that he got into mine?  now, just go on and buy your own **** copy, because you ain’t gonna borrow mine!

thanks for sharing your heart with the world, Joe!
don’t tell anyone else, but you know i love ya!