Pick me up, And open my cover, But be careful, Cause I might crumble, Read my fine print, Just don’t mock the way I am, I’ve been through alot since then, Drugs, Fights, Heart breaks, And more, Are all the things you’ll find, In my novel.
Invariably, You prefer to come To me in the dark. "You're more my temperature then," You once said. I'm not much of a thermometer, But I am the eurythmy To each syllable you give In such settled shadow. A play of murmurs and fingertips, You once named this. Always I see a wreath in your hair, In colors of Persia, Textures of night, And the soft blended lines Of you I know Infallibly.
Life wears me out with its twists and turns, and hairpin curves. I keep waiting for a long, peaceful stretch of a highway, bathed in the rising sun. A golden wheatfield to to the left, a moss-covered pond with dragonflies to the right. The road turns to gravel and climbs rapidly uphill. There are signs along the way that promise the world. The road gradually turns to dirt and ultimately disappears.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSAlwXq6VDA check out my you tube channel. I read my poetry there.