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