We’re painting the roses red
When I spill my bottle of wine
Laughing the silly words we said
Running through the sunshine
Gathering inspiration to write
Leaning against their picket fence
Together & the songs we recite
Friendship allows life to make sense
What could be more perfect
A night with my hands on your hips
Never letting go of your beautiful sight
Except when I lean in to kiss your lips
A sweet tune to dance upon
Losing clothes with each bottle we drink
Our eyes smiling within true love
My hearts still skips when I catch your wink
Your idols weren’t half the men
They thought they were half a bottle in
Cowardly hiding behind unjust traditions
Sinning while gulping juniper medicinal gin
Their women languishing in the shadows
Cast off from any chance to reach the light
Yet those damsels can see through the dark
The perfect heroine to save an errant knight
Misconstrued notions of dynamic parity
Swabbing the deck with your fallen idol
Ink smudges & literary drudges
Methinks – their mothers should’ve used spermicidal
Empty wine bottles clink; devoid of all inspiration
But that’s not the way you remembered they bled
Choosing the perfect wording for posterity
A trembling shadow of what the poets once said
We once set out to create a fresh universe
But that’s not the way I can any longer think
Falling in love with strange, beautiful women
The source & reason for all the dedicated ink
Our souls entwined in deliberate communion
But that’s not the way that I came to be lost
Specific writings to engrave our cosmic lust
Forever entombed within this highland frost
Captain Q 