Sometimes I am too tired to be interesting – undo the pretzel form of my understanding or reform the limerick of my expression; looking upon the face of love and giving thanks for another chance to utter an expression – please know, that I love each and every one of you – half brother, full sister and all of you who are kindred.
The books and piled transcripts, the trinket pencils, and feather pens – my tall hat and the beautiful rhinestones stuck to my ceiling make up a make believe night of forgiveness; at dawn the final whisper…me saying to you, I have a heart that will let you in, so do come, without malice, sharp objects, or other projectiles.
As a child enchanting birthday praises to Jesus, and raising my arms to the lucky sky of happiness, turning, falling, and laughing – not making anyone or anything wrong for the failure of the caped caper, the Mary Lamb, the debate or debacle – I’ve always smiled at the thought that tomorrow I would rise and live again.
Who had the time to plan demise, who had the desire to anticipate downfall, who wanted to waste a genie wish on disaster? Time was forever evergreen, and milk came from woman, and fire from man – I never knew then that there would ever be a you to hate, be confused by, envy or spite – but somehow overnight, the doldrums came.