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 |    A new decade of musings from poetry to what inspires; casting words like seed worldwide. |
| Let This Be The Last Regret I button my collared shirt on the edge of your sunrise bed in my vision in my soul captured with a racing heart. I spy a horizon out your glass where prospects are rays angling for anything in this room we once shared in darkness, glowing before the orb could radiate us, wondering what next. Dare we swim the sublime shine? Do you think me more than pressed slacks removed, folded, on side table near neatly arranged pillows, discarded one night -- beyond comfort of your high thread counts? The smell from iron skillet in kitchen blazing could encourage a weak heart to bite an offering. Fragrance of your heavy perfume, rising from discarded garments, blocks these tender senses stirring, packing up an ending scene, wondering -- where I parked, and how drunk to forget, and why need your flesh so close on a fuzzy night? Risked my love just a little too much. The last shoe found, heeled for its walk to your door, imagine held for your one regret still assessing security, acquisition, of perfect acceptance, while slotting those beads like Braille upon my neck, when your small pet brushes my pant leg. |
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