Tuesday, June 12, 2012


A wish waits at the window
pandering impossible desire 
branches shift in moon-made shadows
dancing like a funeral pyre
Back hot against an evening fire  
smiles trick on her love's face 
but she's not yet ready to retire 
fancies truth could fast deflate 
to end! as quick as summer rain 
from trembling walls and tin roof beats 
to silence: a weaker fate
than adumbrated fantasy
If not dissolved by wine and lips
she might resist. She might resist.