The mimes mimic the sky
as single snow angels blush.
His hands now cover her eyes,
it's peek-a-boo with a crush.

***Knock Knock***

Blushing puddles are upon their feet,
the trees standing by her side;
shyly they've undressed deceit,
toward the sky with love, their arms thrown open wide.

**who's there?**

The embrace of change is upon the beasts
as they shake the demons out as one.
A fevered yet welcomed release
in the pale rays of a winter sun.

"*** who's there?***"
"White Maire, Knight Mare"

If unmoved is your desire
tis best to nail it down.
Bare arms whisper, reaching ever higher
yearning much, to kneel before His crown.

The fluid sleep with aging souls
as rusted chains once ivory break,
while freezing silence takes it's toll
another dawn of lonely shakes.

She wanders down heights where gates are belled
and morning glories; we gather at dusk
to whisper in his ears, why are you compelled
dear poet, to toss up words brusque.

Never November's neighbor,
not knowing that nothing has come.
A dream I dreamt to re-arrange her.
It's finished, my work here is done.



***no one special***

11/12/2010