With Love, No Boundaries Intended

I love you like a sister
where there is no space in time
your back against the wall
no boundaries, intended,
a church organist reviewing
"Rock Of Ages", then
"The Wedding Song" as
choir practice sings along
chin up, you
send me a CD for Christmas
yet it's Easter when
lilies pop up
it is a sad Good Friday
but it is all because of
love,
isn't it?
With no boundaries intended,
I see you in pumps,
a Southern girl now,
a dress curling over your ankles
the size of Scarlet O'Hara's
setting her bottom with a wiggle
on the steps of Plantation
Tara,
won't a half-dozen men gaze up
at your face
as if it were chiselled and you
are in a mag?
The lioness in you,
has been tamed, I think,
since you once roared
wild and crazed,
scratching at the ground,
with no boundaries intended,
then,
civilized.
You draw pictures in the sand,
for you are complete,
inside a conch I hold up to my ear,
listening to the ocean's bottom,
my feet scuddling across the muddy
broken shells of it, wanting to
turn into a mermaid too,
as for years you have, hoping
I would be as happy with no boundaries
intended
in the arms of your Picasso stroking
canvas like a dream. How he loves to
paint!

You have measured our friendship
like the sound of a grand opera
as the songs are sung in
Italian by a buxom woman I sigh for you,
caught up in your deeply revered
dimpled speeches,
your hennaed hair, a mystery,
furthering my choice of presents
to lavish upon you soon,
stuck like a genie inside a bottle
washed ashore,
then broken into shards of glass
no boundaries in its path
as I shake it, and out you come.