There is was, there is stood
Dried and beauteous on a floor of wood.
The color of  a heart, or maybe
The color of a life-bond.

A perfect dried circle, just
off of the divan- Toe
polish paint. I imagined
being that wayward drop falling,
tumbling miles down and colliding
into a sphere.

Then gazing in amazement up high
at the sweep of your thigh,
leg propped trained  on the coffee
table- peeping into the land of
paradise and pain.

    What a wonderful thing to
be-
   Please don't clean me up.