A Fine Suited Man With Terrible Inklings

A fine suited man with terrible inklings Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness Falling by the wayside with time & tide Beauty is merely a natural configuration Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge His intentions told with a silent tongue Embraced & now they lovingly merge

Blue Skies Are Returning

Blue skies are returningWe’re running headlong into SpringShake out all these Winter cobwebsLet the sunshine wake my soul to sing The flowers are returning to the earthSeasons change and its turning warmLet’s smile as we head outsideTime to stretch out your glorious form Your dress looks lovely upon your skinAlas, its time to remove someContinue reading “Blue Skies Are Returning”