Empty words she grieved, a hollow
shell acclaimed in league with mostly
vacant vows – there’s nothing here
to warm the chill in me right now
A pledge of low-fat fakery and wood-
fired pizza guarantees won’t charm;
please me how I need to be this day
or be prepared to pay an awful fee
Fly me to a moon of make-believe,
ascend with incredulity on soaring
wings – make me want to sigh
into a deeper ease the lazy way
Do these things apace your cause
for wonderment, play a forte role
for great success, make an honest
encore best as your applause
You’d please me more, she cedes,
with lesser rote in playing strings to
pluck and tune sequentially – know
I’m not your usual music score
© 26 February 2012, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment