And there it was-
I'll tell you all the truth you ask of me-
Let all of my hesitation- reservations- love-
Pass by unnoticed- unheeded- misheard-

Be it strange- or be it my aptitude towards the unholy,
Whether the soft touch of the willow-fed irises-
Or the half-life glare of nighthawks, posed aloof and aloft-
In full conscious awareness of their physicalities-
With willful composure- and heads turned just so.