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My Love Was A Riveting Rose
by Philip F De Pinto
My tears cannot get a grip
Hence they fall not into the wrong hands
But yours my love
Cupped for the occasion
As makes you sip for all they are worth
Triste's holy waters
Syphon all into your spongy caverns
So as to blurt their mist through the celebrated space
Twixt your teeth
So as to atomize and fix the dust
Of a migrant love
Whose hands slide from your grace
All the while they gird you about the waist
And why make haste to spray mace
In the ouvre of my totem faces
Adding to their triste
Each declaring - my love my love
My Rosy love
If rivets are not your thing
To fix tears to my cheeks
Then nail them to their eyeball
To cease their fall
Which would leave you
As you've left me to thirst for yours
Given the crop of our love has failed
And Sol nailed to the wings of a margarine fly
Making abrupt announcements
As does the Dear John enlist
Clenched in our fist
As finds us unprepared as Christ
To be fixed by their beams
Onto a cross more beautiful than love
Could ever hurt one or a pair
When love is there only
To shirk its duty to spray light
In our ever dimming faces
Like a possuming sun
No longer bent on feigning sunset
But rises to such unexpected height
As affords it optimum views on love taking flight
Yours my love my Rosy love
And if tears are not your thing
To drop each to their knee
Then rivet them to their green eyeball
So as to not permit their fall
Their ever winding stream
To gird about my sail
All the while they descend from grace
And our croppings fail
02/12/2015 Posted on 02/12/2015
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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