Delayed motion of her hand
Lost in thought; unable to translate
The slippery notion of time
Within the energy of a tangible fate
Let us remain discrete in our words
She tries to focus as I obnoxiously flirt
Concentrating on writing proper forms
Caught her unaware as I reached up her skirt
Waiting patiently for the Muse’s return
A pure idea to refresh the new day
Tepid sips off the scalding coffee urn
Molding a thought to quietly display
Translating emotion; an implicit admission
Each worthy of their own silent moment
Stretching ink in all the right positions
The journey of imagination with delicious intent
Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know
But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions
How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain
Captain Q 