Out
on that road.
Yellow,
I fear no peril, smell
elements
of heather, pine and
fennel,
holding in a clenched
hand,
tales of what you'd be.
To
me again, essence remain,
true
to life, the wanting of
someone
true to me, I for she,
she
for me and all that jazz
in
between the shaded green.
Up
ahead, I spy a dream,
come
for one more chance,
my
arms to hold, before I'm
cold.
She knew me all for older
days,
when men were rough
and
tough, before the advent,
of
a romantic yearning, setting
foot
in her garden was not
permitted
without a word, she
heard
the falling of my eyes.
Watching
like there's no
tomorrow
she strode away, I
cried
but hastened after the girl.
Could
I catch her, no-one tried
yet
I have hoped to go and
find
her pace, perfect aspect
in
the openness of face, when
angels
sought to steal a
moment
of this feline grace.
Country
roads that take me
home,
to places I would go,
below
a guise of finding out,
who
did or cannot love her
here,
someone less than mostly
queer.
My memory would sell
me
out if I had not believed,
a
tiny jot of awesomeness
would
walk into my life, then
promptly
spin me upside down.
'M'
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