Wanfeather revisited.

                     I should say that I
            remember wanfeather best of all.
                 Our pointy, jointy elbows
                      and the spiderweb red crawl

       Evening would fall,
   as we slipped away from wonderland,
            she would weave and dance for me;
                  at last, arrayed on my hand.

                                             Before winter, fall,
                                   before fall, Spring! Bells to ring! Toes
                              to meld with grass below, a kiss
                           to trade as ribbons wound and froze.

Before Spring we sprouted,
Or rather, they sprouted:
Our shoulders slipped, and then
Drip, drip, dripped.

                           Our flight ensemble,
                 I recall, and how she sped ahead.
              But blood stands bright on powered snow,
               thus, I followed while she bled.

                             Silhoutte against the sky
                         I found, at last, I could not fly.
                    Eyes had closed and wings withdrew:
                      I dreamed of winter gone awry.

Awake to find myself
Alone amidst Spring, for winter sailed
With wanfeather, and her breadcrumbs
Those I had followed and failed

Thus, I lost Wanfeather.

Like ships in fog.

I don't suppose it's proper,
Or permissable, and I'm not sure
That you wouldn't hold it against me
I'm flippant true, truant often,
and I'm sorry.

But the truth of the matter is
Though it's been nearly a year,
And time flies and memories fade,
I still miss you, lady writer.

I think it's silly, this heartset, the way
My sails have been tied in sailor's knots
(Who can untie a sailor's knot)
But I don't regret it.

This picture just won't fade,
The way your hair falls down
Around your face.

Spare some change?

You should be careful, the things that you say
When you choose to speak
The manifold things which your words can convey
Leave you sounding meek

And letters I've learned, though written anew
Though I might be wrong
Expose a digest of the same old issue
Rendered for the throng

Fragments of these will slip again
Fall from the mind, my dear, and then
The only thing which we'll regret
We can't recall what to forget

If only I'd seen, I wouldn't have lined
Hints of this return
I find my words are minutely declined
Yours I can't discern

Fragments of these will slip again
Fall from the mind, my dear, and then
The only thing which we'll regret
We can't recall what to forget

A mark by any other motion.

An old man has sat by the side of the road
His face bears the lines of the stories he's told
The people he knew, his tales of the North
Words that would wander will settle henceforth:

This color of springtime, he spoke in my ears
Reminds of the dancing in my younger years
When mirth would be made and the girls would align
And with careful footsteps, their ribbons entwine

In moments of courtship the flowers I gave
Kisses neath arbors on which were engraved
The musings of lovers, which fade day by day
In winter, when wanfeather often would stray

The fields of the frst days, the sun shining down
Fierce on our cheeks which would slip into brown
Before all the wonders were all but unmade
Stopping to watch butterflies on parade

There's a tulip now, beneath my view
An acorn beside it, sadly, its true
That winter is hard, and often unkind
One likely will leave, with one left behind

When war drenched the fields with the lives of young men
We saw only after that death makes one yen
For peace to descend, the only mischance
Comes from the moments when tigers will dance.

The guard at last changed, the elders en route
Thus we all leave, I will face resolute
The remainder, and ever consider a list
Of every love that never I've kist.

Poet and Painter, and which was the better?
One would dazzle towards bed, but the other
Would keep you there ever, hide and seek earthward
The trees in your orchard stretch always onward.

Oh dancer, recall, when we knew eros
As long as you can, keep these memories close
We know but a moment, loves fades with my heart
The acorn is leaving the tulip apart.

Reference.

These words become strained
I've nothing to say
Watching the days as
They trickle away

Clipped by a storm
But making for shore
I should remind you
I've been here before

The nuance is new
Your charm must admit
The outcome's the same
It's familiar old shit

I quit.