Benignly seated in a
Self made throne of wonder
All I need is for you to be nice
Lassitude for love
Winsome in my youth
A true impresario
I would write the words
Conjure the terms
Wonder if love
Could ever happen for me?
How could it be that
In all of my dreams
I would hold onto
Questions but
Miss out on reality
Both girls resented his
Brilliance for what it was worth
Sorting out his resplendence
Divvy it up between them
Stretched from arm to arm
Fighting for or against
One another, who could tell
As grey as the sky remained
Some soothing comfort that the
Sun couldn’t bring and the
Distance memories that
Remained in the sheets of his mind
Laying in bed half awake
Half dreaming of what he
Had hoped to accomplish
What had died and
What was taken
© GÄ
Poétique 