June 5, 2003

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  Tell me a story
  

  
  

  Tell me a story, Poet,
  Tell me one filled with the champagne cascades of laughter,
  With the hue and cry of bloody war,
  With the spilling salt of tragic tears,
  Everything.
  
  

  Tell me a story, please.
  I’ll sit on your knee,
  Please enchant me,
  Fill my head with visions of strangeness
  And nostalgia.
  Spin the words like such intricate thread
  That I can smell your delicate aromas
  And feel the heaving breath
  Of chase, pursuit, romance, and pain.
  
  

  Please,
  Your voice soothes me
  With a dull roar of blazing hearths
  In the snowy winters,
  When I was wrapped in the scented furs
  And held the steaming mug
  In my stubby hands.
  
  

  If only
  These words could paint around me
  A world other than this
  That is thicker more than the paint used
  To create it.
  Your lovers’ roses would grace my tables,
  The torn pennants of fallen armies
  Would fill the fields beyond the windows,
  And your tickle-tale laughter
  Would shake my ribs so hard
  That I could swear I would die.

  
  

  

  • 12:47 am
  • 4 Comments