Poetry should go for a walk at night
Through the park
lay in the due sprinkled grass
and gaze up at the sky lit by stars and a Hunter's Moon
With you

Poetry should put on a crimson red dress
With blackened leather boots
And sing for all of the ladies and gentlemen
Who drove for miles just too hear her voice

Poetry should put on her blue and white polka dotted galoshes
Dance in the rain and jump in puddles with the kids
and let the rain drizzle upon her head
With not a care if she gets wet

Poetry should sit down and curl up by the fire
sip some hot chamomile tea
And read a captivating book that Richard Tyler would befriend
Until she drifts into sleep

Poetry should paint you a picture of love
One that starts with a smile, blue sky's, the brine flavored ocean
And ends with your lips running across my chest
while my hands caress the nape of your neck
and yours entwine with the tangles of my hair

Poetry should make the colors of the leaves turn
as clouds creep into the sky leaving a blanket of crystals on the ground
Poetry should thaw out your forgotten memories
that froze like the once trickling creek
so you can know that every second is worth while