A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
I hear from the porch, you in the parlor; intent, locks lean in, weight depresses dusted-off ivory. Only once had I heard the bench groan Its stubborn disdain. The hall released doves so sweet, hovered a human ear in humid seat, sucked denim unsealed to envision you there, lost in despair. Honey, you’re so far away, enmeshed behind a Pacific screen, hopeless. If I council, share that music bench, we could quench notes deep-stuck, catch in my throat — your vocal vibrations entreat. You to one half, hit the high notes, where I climb — our fingers at apex meet. With my tender sole, brush your lovely feet, sending brass levers to board complete. Amber tresses soft, replete, when I turn to the parlor deep, far as it will go, before eyes freeze, cover as flakes of coming snow. It’s whiter weather here my dear — time to go. Voice like lemonade, savory, soothing tea. I embrace your lyrics, longing like memory until dawn. Crystal blues ice a wide pond. Though a heart weeps, in my chest tender, firm those waves roll on, dreamt ever-tide on my shore, before humidity lifts to find you at my door, once again. From a porch sweet, so complete, when you drag those legs over bare wood — love all the more, steeped in your song. 7.13.22 7.24.22 revised To F.R.’s “Why Do I Do This?” maybe, 40 entries further down this blog. Half from the song, the rest echoes in my mind as words writ down. |