I'm outside on my swing, without the trace of a breeze or the slightest wind; just the scorching heat beating down on my face, and yet this is my happy place The birds are humming and the bees are buzzing, my eyes are squinting yet I sit here swinging; all the while wondering, what you must me doing or thinking in my absence;
so I asked ... and in honeyed words, you replied in a way that made my eyes smile
The swing is the place to be, you said Life is a pendulum and we like a bee We flutter and collect in the gardens soaking in goodness and mollen Then only we load our everlasting pollen Heat will cleanse you and let sweat be your attire, for only the sun can share your fire Finally, the internal beauty will reflect in your desire, for this beautiful lady's heart is ready for a new hireΒ Β
Oh how I smiled ...
You surprised my senses, sipping from my words, swirling the soft taste of my sun-soaked innocence - and something else, a silliness perhaps; the kind that comes from unexpected surprises How did the words taste, I wonder; enough to tease your lips into a smile, enough to tickle your pen into writing me into the midst of your day, and enough for the sound of your voice to echo like a whisper within my ears Suddenly, the swing in the early afternoon, beneath the glaring sunlight, wearing nothing but sweat and silly innocence, has become my favorite place to be