You’re butterfly effect — causality
of songs, the meadowlark of summer days,
the footsteps swallowed in mortality,
an aftermath from nights and morphine daze.
You’re both the timpani and piccola,
the salt and sugar and the embered ice.
You’re my ocean liner and the gondola
to bring me home and paint the evening nice.
You’re mistress, wife, the best among my friends,
both reason for this life and cause of death.
And when I sit here with my poem penned
with you beside me yet asleep. Your breath
a moonlit pebble path that leads astray.
You’re muse and writer’s block, both night and day.
Today we have a guest at dVerse who wants us to write in meter. For me it became a sonnet of sorts.
February 2, 2017