A crooked tiara
Perched over tear stains
Smudged makeup drying
Only the pain now remains
But the sunshine emerges
Hope rises after the ashes
Don’t give up on me, for I’m
Here to kiss wet eyelashes
A Crooked Tiara
perch
I’m Getting Old
OMG! I’m getting old
I’m actively searching
For the edited version
Methodically perching
Watching their content
Preserving young minds
Cultivating the innocence
For you can never rewind
I Saw Her Through The Glittering Sun
I saw her through the glittering sun
Perched high upon the lifeguard stand
Perfectly sculpted under bright sky
Knees weak, tripping in the soft sand
The gulls echoing a distant cry
Dreams of love & what could be
The salt air marinating upon our skin
I’ve lost my heart here upon the sea
Waking Early Before The Morning

Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock
Feeling The Cold Upon The Sill
Feeling the cold upon the sill
My wineglass perched just so
A stagger to my fragile swagger
I hid my love, but now you know
Captain Q 