and so they fell …
Tears as pearly quaver
Salty in their pas de deux from her realize
A can-can polka in strip tease of soul bare
How vibrant, albeit transient in masquerade, their desire
A dance of miniscule quandary in micro adventure
Frilly knickered, in slivers of the truth
In folly, a spent of friendship abandoned
Curtsey now, in diversity of no embrace, why?
…for our lives are but a piecemeal of conversation
Random etymology in lesson
A three penny opera with no beg your pardon
The once bemused attar of forget me nots
Their fragrance now heavy in the air
…and the diminutive whys, wander rhetorically, in and out
of the bungle bungles of reality… because they can-can

Sometimes there is no rhyme … no reason
We skip, break into dance.
The light is fantastic.
Our trippy smile complacent
Circumspect is the altered state,
of a world as it mutters its beat with the always of our heartfelt song.
We run our fingers under the hot tap,
numb gathers, swelling in ****** ripples infinite.
And still there is only a sensation of love.
Hindsight is the cold light of day we splash on our if onlys.
We lift yesterdays garb over our head and closet it as a memory.
The sun shines mourn as sad roams in displace.
And while we link hands with a share of spirit; renew,
everything falls unbelievably into place.
Yet we know deep down, where we truly live.
Sometimes there is no reason …no rhyme.

Her
The flower on the wall
Wilting slightly
Drops a petal
Fills her vase with Johnny Walker
Re hydrated
Firms her buds
He loves me…

The other posies
Gather round
As she is picked
To join the chosen
Form the wreath
'the arrangement'
That tops the coffin
It is her service

Sweet translucent sap
Leaks from her stem cut
For that is the fate
Of the daisy
He loves me not…

I have been
kissed by the night
tempted
as the big juicy apple
shy once
bitten
proffered by the hand
of wild belief
that dipped
not in love
more the alchemy
of mischief intended
and were I to swim
fairytale like again
it would be with a free style
amongst the deep
between the flags
where thought meant
overt share
and with faith of leap
truth be known
my night
is my day
until then
oh yes
until then
I float on my back
in ponder…

Alone, left not a sound
nor word of extricate.
As humble pie they slid.
Words unfinished, like
fancy work embossed
on the hand extended.
Silken gloves removed
to reveal fingers that
we pianists gently stroke
on simultaneous keyboards.
Verbose the affinity, once
shared in a twilight of linger.
And in the dim that sings
La Traviata to the silenced
autumn’s light grew quiet.
She remembers a smile
of a time that tingled …