more photos of you in bed in the morn
more waking more taken more warm
i see saturday dressed up in sunday
i see doing dressed up in idle ways
repose. repose when i can to grow
tall as a chimney on a chapel in the snow
i've come home to your curly hair straight
but mostly it's loving and staying that way
cooking slow as secrets in the holder
burning quick as gossipers to fold over
my love we tip toe to the weeds full in color
lay our curious eyes on nature's lover
i
mean to speak plain enough for all
but the pen is a trickster in inky scrawl
and the mind has not a care at all
to say it simply for each and all
poetry was music and music was speach
and speach was never more than a visual reach
we see our own sights in books
we seek our interpretations in looks
love is a word that is sought
it stands on the nose tip till it is caught
and catching is releasing the catch
a weekend well woken in naps
July
2008
