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Her love
was his compass,
her blessing
his disguise,
in the pale blue light
of moon and
mother night,
her arms, his refuge
from the stormy sky
she spoke to him
like stars,
light years from afar
she held him
as the cosmos
were destined to align
If that’s not you
walking the corner of my eye
then who? I wonder,
who’s shadow unwinds?
Overhead like a compass,
creation of time. Time
and again, like time were a crime.
Wasted. Lost. Forgotten. Blind.
Memories fade, they never die.
So if that flutter of feather is you,
alright that’s fine. It’s much ado.
So when they ask you calmly why
won’t you share yourself with I?
I have and will, see I am I
unanswered we are now defined.
Words Of An Average White Male 