Found In The Parasol of A Lady Loved
Updated on March 15, 2011
Found In The Parasol Of A Lady loved.
©-MFB III
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My Dearest Inspiration,
In this cubbyhole
tucked in your parasol
left outside the shop
you frequent
on the corner
of third and forlorn,
I've etch my
wingless soul's
dreams of soaring,
in long swooping loops,
gathered on parchment
from the tip of
this feather quill
that once knew flight.
Dipped in the midnight
of one mans darkest voice,
and scratched out on
parched paper
for you to cherish.
I was tempted to
write it in blood,
to send you
the very essence
of my heart's
most precious fluid,
just a quick slice,
and a small collection
of a most vital force,
a sweet release of the
pounding pulsations,
any view of you causes me,
when you draw near.
But you might think of me
as profane, or strange,
and I would become
nothing more then a cobweb
in the dark attic of yesterday's
possibilities in your eyes.
So I've sent you these thoughts,
wrought with great trembling
in hopes that they move you.
Move your eyes in
long measuring looks,
your smile in an
upward curve as I approach,
your hands in an open
invitation to join mine,
and perhaps a merger
one day of our souls,
flying together across
the endless heavens of love.
Until then I will remain,
Indescribably fond of you,
Love, Heathcliff