Two Lost Souls, Like Beachcombers

Two lost souls, like beachcombersLooking for lost things; love & suchDistant memories of happinessThe feeling of being needed; a touchNestled within a Siren’s lullabyWe never could grasp our fateShrugging off the daily strugglesOur only choice is to circumnavigate

Swapping Daisy Buchanan For Lady Brett

Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady BrettDreams & visions traded for a martini glassThe swirls of ice resemble their heartsThe disappearing notion of the dignified classSo we raise a toast for decent luckThese three olives constitute her daily menuDancing off silently out onto the verandaSubtly becoming her own performance venue

I Can’t Swim That Far

I can’t swim that farNo use for a sailor like meFloating with the jetsamWithout the pomp or jubileeThis grey cell rockingOn each & every waveAt the whim of natureI pray for Jesus to saveA daily grind in hellNo time for witty quipsThis a mere life raftFor the Devil’s Flagship

Sitting Out On The Porch Swing

Sitting out on the porch swingSkirt spread flat over rocking legsExhausted from the daily routineTired of sharing life with the dregsClosing weary eyes to dream againImagining a reassuring, masculine formKnowing this could finally be differentThis could be comfort in the coming storm