The darkness has not lifted
But the voices are getting mean
A subtle slippage in the light
I’m going to need more caffeine
Perhaps some fresh air to heal
When the dreaming has soured
I spy the image in a night shift
The lone lady out at this hour
The gloom begins to recede
With this sweet widow on the block
My heart in rhythm with her words
As the gentle hands on the clock
Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown
It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy
Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain
Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail
A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol
Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more
Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth
Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense
To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate
Resisting the urge to flatter
Never taking such a leap
Beauty the heart of the matter
Ignored in your idle chatter
Left feeling like a forgotten heap
Resisting the urge to flatter
The thoughts come, but soon scatter
Keeping me from peaceful sleep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Love served on a silver platter
A tarnished memory much too cheap
Resisting the urge to flatter
My soul simmered to splatter
But our dreams aren’t that deep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Your image makes me all a-patter
Never wanting to come off as a creep
Resisting the urge to flatter
Beauty the heart of the matter
Time to float off into another world
Close your eyes & drift forever away
Within silent storms of a castaway girl
Reimagining visions before finding the day
Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage
Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration
Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard
Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades
We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull
I’m not saying I don’t appreciate
A lady of Paris, Milan & back again
A smartly dressed woman of the Times
Inspiration for me to re-dip my pen
I’m not saying I don’t cherish
A bold woman who’s a little bossy
Nudity as art upon tasteful scales
Teasing me through 8 x 10 glossies
I’m merely submitting a formal request
Publicly provide the proper image of classy
Though once their prying eyes are shielded
I’m going to need you to be gratuitous & sassy
Restless strokes of the brush
The telltale image of our love combined
Closing our eyes to life’s explanations
Marching to the sunrise; no longer confined
There’s so much talk of being wild
Like there’s a constant harness holding us back
But its just an illusion for others to see
You’re choosing to embrace all that you lack
These false pretenses are keeping you low
Images of a manicured life on your social media feed
Spending your days adjusting other’s perceptions
When these aren’t the actions a happy life really needs
It’s difficult to perceive any truth as you focus the camera
The projection of crazy as you manipulate your reputation
Here’s a secret, the honest people don’t really care &
The real wild ones don’t bother with perfect punctuation
Image by Anatoliy Morozz from Pixabay
Captain Q 