tonight I am a poet
but that could just be
the drink talking

It’s never gonna be my turn
I stand in line and pay my fare
But the bus is full when I get there
And someone else is in my seat.
ljm

Words are threads of many colors.
That can be woven into something
Beautiful and strong.
I said that to Melan of Innocence once
And it’s true.
She is a weaver of gossamer truth.
Warp dipped in LOVE and then woven
Through heartwarming weft
To form fabric both beautiful and
Astoundingly strong.
ljm

Demon’s lust for blood
Bathed in Dragon’s fire
Pixie’s dance in the forgotten wood
And Witches build a pyre

The Mermaid’s bubble laugh
A Unicorn’s fair grace
Werewolves wait along the path
And Vampire’s leave no trace

The Wizard’s wanton spell
In a Fairy ball of mist
A Goblin’s lair - at the gate to hell
That Angel’s can’t resist.