, i shall give her a stanza skirt
of royal scarlet and turquoise,
a pearly glint of autumn moon.
she’ll swoon when i show her
this gentle noise of stream,
the golden sunsets seams
i’ve sewn into her hem. the trem
-bled sway of breeze. these trees
are her runway. someday,
she’ll see the swell of my chest
as she breathes her syllables,
know the thrumbeats of my
heart are tuned to her smile.
someday, she’ll stay. for today,
i’ll just whisper her all the whim
and worth my lips cannot say,
but my fingers know deep. and
pray she’ll keep them safe.
In April, we poem.