A Blues Morning

Antiquated melodies, a resonance of memory,

masquerading Minerva, riddles in rhyme,

Melodramatic prosing, a map of the malady,

A star struck warp into the annals of time,


Twisted and bent, these frets of the dawn,

Still water reflects upon the blues sky,

One penny in my pocket to wish upon,

A saxophone swallows my sigh,


Serpentine symphony serenades my skin,

Guiless guitar gently grieves,

Held hostage by helpless hopes of him,

As lingering laughter litters the leaves,


Red light, red wine, read pages and Ruby Tuesday,

Wind whispers of wounded wings,

Mountain heights and neon lights took my breath away,

Among other things,


Riddled and rattled, reality remains,

A confusing conundrum of chance,

Yet in the midst of sweet refrain,

Bare toes dance,


Lithe and lonely, the lilt of lovely lips,

Seducing the moon from the sky,

Where silver light caresses swaying hips,

And fills the wanting eye.


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