Cities shrug
by safe harbors
or not;
laundry hanging
on a line --
each moment
caught in time
by pen in hand.
Beauty flirtatious,
glances at the beast --
yet, there is
the uncommon beauty
languidly battling
the ardent pursuer;
(tangerine lips),
a bed of blossoms.
There is the invisible
woman
shallow beyond
the bone.
This, too, caught
by pen in hand.
At once, political
fanfare --
who's running the world
and why?
Revolution's heroes
and the first small step,
later enduring
and correct.
A dear friend, from
childhood, seen,
'Ti-jean with his
plaid shirt and
merere.
This all caught
by pen in hand.
The two old loves
yearning for green
meadows,
lie down by weeds
and tracks
as if in graves.
But, why not stave off
the hands of fate?
Love lingers long
if it is true.
And last of all, yes,
perhaps happier than
the rest,
a little woman --
tame bird in hand:
no truer friend.
This, too, caught by
pen in hand.