My darling friend
The gift you tend
From heart to heart
Your work of art
You betoken love; I see
None other will aptly be
None other can possibly know
Your fingers the kindest bow
The gift you send
You darling friend.
NEW HOME IN THE SUN
There is a band playing in a turret of the castle of my mind.
Thinking about what you had said; knowing it was a lie.
Playing against Mother Nature; probing, hoping for a find.
Lying crippled from all attempts; under scrutinizing eye.
An insincere queen reigns in a self proclaimed driver’s seat.
Deeming laughter and drumming as almighty sin against God.
Labored, accrued and paid for by peasants without meat.
Her, wicked guffaw, exempt, ringing loud and feigned: odd.
In a dream, I waited, while entertaining a love affair with the moon.
All in a dream, placated, waiting for the sun to shine.
Asleep, daydreaming, of a Mother Nature soon to swoon.
Awake, the sun burst through on a silver sea: mine.