He is bald
Plain to my eyes
Sublime in local geniality

The garden he claims
Taimed in distress
Of the coming winter

I fear the tears
Sudden regret
For his' long forgotten trials

Forced to steep so low
Forward but below
Entrenched in sweet tasting anguish

His' body hard and unmotivated
The Sculpture of obsession
Must be completed with stubborn muscle

I seem to torment him
My love becoming
A betrayal of our lust

Battles commence
Volcanic eruptions
Shake the house of ruin

He never seems to trust me
My compassionate actions
Bring forth pork chops

The meal
Is shared
Beside each other

Without Sight
We fight against
White picket fences