Writing – Page 79 – A (wise) man of two faces

Petals

Bit by bit
the world falls.

Then winter comes
and frosts the roots.

I am first, myself.
I am many other things:
child, friend, and lover
but my final commitment
cannot be to another.

Shifting, swaying in the breeze
rippling with such sensual ease
that you stand raptured with the grace
of the vision that’s this place.

It starts with a handshake,
a chance perhaps to partake
in a grand experiment
in search of lasting merriment.
I hope it’s not a mistake.

Predator on a hunt
reeling them in with
eye-contact and a smile –
You’ll never see it coming.

Song and stories
of old glories:
fairy tales
or just history?

Castles for coffee
accent ottoman isles
with treasured chests
hiding secret booty.

I would love bacon
or silver dollar pancakes
with maple syrup…
But many mornings I can
barely get to work on time.

Catching
up on my sleep
should hit me like a bed
and not like a runaway train
instead.

It stretched out before her
showing her the way:
a wide expanse of tomorrow
and small thoughts of yesterday.

– photograph featuring weakmeatstrongeat