Dear sir, With you effusive competence And that big heart Like the sky With a lightness That I don’t know. And I don’t know pervades or stands- the ceaseless litany forged by the world of your ‘’ failings of being’’, gives me hope for the world indeed.
That child’s beam A saucer smile; Eyes a grave green like a steely forest night With memories of dire darkness And wolves and fear;
Like a rosy sky Working a soft pink That feels like velvet on a winter morning; And dreams of laying along with the freshness Of the companionable grass On a warm spring day And love revised, anew. Like a rosy sky Working a soft pink From the sun’s gold, I don’t know after forgetting or remembering The sharpness of serrated edges of lightning bolts on many a lonely damp night. I think I have a bit of a crush, You know, the kind that resembles loveliness The kind that reminds me, every now and again, about life and things; The kind that makes me smile and be gay without reason