194

In the silent park, 

reading poetry
my verses went dark, 
my spirit was free.

The bees did flutter 
around the white haze
of heat like butter 
melted on the gaze.

The words were woozy,
 crashing waves on rocks;
please, mam, excuse me; 
my heart knows no locks,
other than the rain 
when it starts to fall
just as you were fain 
to heed nature's call.

And run with gold wings 
on your seasoned back;
I know what time brings: 
the mysteries of lack.

The honey sings now
 the sweet siren's sound;
lights like danger howl, 
there's no life around.

Except for you, me 
and the potential
to become the sea 
and be essential.
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