Press'd as drying flowers be
with saturation's sound,
be livelier than ever he
did dance or jump or bound.

Forc'd as oft as running bears
that heft their berry claim,
do love and run with anon scares
and seek the pow'r to maim.

how could thy beauty
with effervesce and grace
possibly destroy the thoughts
have i for that warm face?

how terrified the pigeons be
when spikes their nests impale,
but love, at once, they do impart
instead of bringing bale.

feigning righteousness did he
abhor in all its majesty
yet killing off discrepancies
adds only to her scheme.

Tis no more a question of life and of death,
tis no more a query of "what if" I had left,
tis no more a concern of thy troubled mind;
tis no more a thought. Darling, leave me behind.

For fear to be immortalized
takes time, yet within my time
lives blaze and wish I'd run and hide
but frozen feet shan't climb.

When interactions numb the heart
and stiff water traps the soul,
thine own protections thou shalt start
with thy unprotected soul.

In thine own garden lives thy key
to unwarranted blessings;
yet chart thy days and scour thy nights
for skeins of love's great testings.

For yon and hither lives do mingle,
twain they do traverse,
but forget, do not their minds of iron;
twas the blessing that baned the curse.

tis but a spoken masterpiece
that sitteth 'gainst a rock,
yet silver tongues hath sharpened swords
they've yet to learn to shock.

heed, harken, with steadied palm
that which betwixt us lies,
for time, being time, seems true, but thus,
endears solely desecrate flies.

Once, if it please thee,
snip back hedgelings overgrown
to reveal in a silent plea
the child who's all alone.

Fought for freedom to forget,
finding fear that seems aught of time,
her wisping tendrils wrapped twice, twice yet
round her throat with reason and rhyme.

To love is to look,
like an unbequeathed shield
for a ring or a hook
that will help thee to yield.

But yielding is not for the feinted of heart
or for the young vain and trampled,
for in my own heart i feel set apart
and no longer feel life is ample.

Twas pity that did **** her soul,
a murdress make her be,
but unkempt passions of her mind,
did bind her soul with thee.

Fie, the storms of roiling brew,
for shame, the frolick'd waves,
thy heart and head under wilt go
till she unmasks her grave.

Once put aside, it never dies,
but lives fervently on.

Tis but a shame that love will droop
when thine effort carries on.