If I were a kite

You would be my tether

And together we'd fly

In all kinds of weather

If I were the wind

You'd be a leaf that blows

I'd cradle you gently

You'd drift in repose

If I were the pen

That lays down the words

You would be the sage

That makes them soar like the birds

If I were the knowledge

Passed down through the ages

You’d be the wisdom

That would grace the pages

If you were the brush

That paints a fine line

I would be a color content

Knowing that you were mine

#poetry #mylove #prosechallenge

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Choo!!

The stranger knocked upon the door,

A creaking, wooden throb,

And someone on the other side

Unlatched and turned the knob.

Uncertainty, a soft, "Hello,"

And, "May I use your phone?"

The person on the other side

Appeared to be alone.

An observation taken in,

No pictures on the wall.

He pointed somewhere down the way-

"Go on and make a call."

The thunder boomed; the stranger stalled

As wires were cut instead.

The gentleman began to sense

A subtle hint of dread.

A conversation thus ensued-

"So what has brought you out?

The rain has flooded everything,

And wiped away the drought.

Say, did you walk, or did you drive?

Why don't I take your coat?"

The stranger slowly moved his arms,

A sentimental gloat.

The water from the pouring skies

Enveloped cloth and shoe.

"Say, would you like a place to sleep?

I'll leave it up to you."

The person on the other side

Discarded his mistrust.

The stranger said his tire was flat,

And shed the muddy crust.

"The phone won't work," he also said.

"It could just be the storm.

Perhaps I will stay here tonight,

To keep me safe and warm."

The patron of the house agreed.

He hadn't seen the wire.

The chilly dampness prompted him

To quickly build a fire.

"You have a name? They call me Ed.

My wife was Verna Dean.

She passed away five years ago

And left me here as seen.

I guess it's really not so bad.

We never had a child.

I loved that Verna awful much,"

He said and sadly smiled.

"No property to divvy up.

The bank will get it all.

Say, do you want to try again

To go and make that call?"

The stranger grinned and left the flame

As to the phone he strode.

Within his pocket, knives and twine

In hiding seemed to goad.

A plan was formed- he'd kill the man;

Eviscerate him whole.

The twine would keep him firmly held;

The knife would steal his soul.

A lusty surge erupted hence;

A wicked bit of sin.

The stranger hadn't noticed yet

That someone else came in.

About the time a shadow fell,

He spun to meet a pan.

The room around him faded out

As eyes looked on a man.

A day or two it seemed had passed,

And when he woke all tied,

The stranger gazed upon old Ed

Who simply said, "You lied."

Reversing thoughts, the moment fled

And Ed said in a lean,

"No worries, stranger. None at all.

Hey, look, here's Verna Dean!"

He looked upon a wraith in rage;

It seemed his little lie

Combusted in a burning fit-

He didn't want to die.

So many victims in his life,

Some fifty bodies strewn.

And now he was the victim; now

The pain to him was known.

The stranger fought against the twine,

And noticed by his bed

The knife once in his pocket left

A trail of something red.

A bowl filled full of organs sat

As Verna poured some salt.

She exited with all of them.

"You know, this is your fault.

We demons wait for just the day

The guilty take the bait

And play with matches one last time-

I simply cannot wait

To taste the death within your flesh;

The venom in your gut.

So now you know the way they felt-

Hey, you've got quite a cut!"

The person on the other side

Removed his human skin-

Before his wife came back for more,

He offered with a grin:

"Say, stranger, is there anything

You'd like to say at all?"

I looked at all the blood and said,

"I'd like to make that call ... "

You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth. She could swear like a sailor, and in the next breath belt out Amazing Grace so sweetly it could make a grown man cry. Her children didn't quite trust her. Would she spank them soundly and send them to bed, or snuggle up and read as many books as their little hearts desired?

If you asked 10 different people to describe her, you'd get 10 completely different descriptions. "She is such a kind, sweet, and patient mother." one might say. "I don't like her, never have and never will." says another. "A goofball, she always makes me laugh." the next explains. "That girl is way to serious and judgmental!" asserts another. From another mouth comes, "She is so pretty, I am jealous!" as a surprised friend says, "Really? I think she is homely!" " From the next, "Oh, her..she is such a health nut!" "A bit of an alcoholic, I believe." claims another. "She's a face painter." announces another, the next describes her as, "The beekeeper." yet another would say "She is a writer." 

Sometimes, she looks in the mirror and she feels she is looking at a stranger. Who are you she asks, but the stranger just shrugs.

I had a Vodka Cranberry last night.

It told me I could dance.

When my flailing arms made me look like a joke,

I went and grabbed a Rum and Coke.

The rum said I'd get a special surprise,

if I quickly downed a Tequila Sunrise.

Tequila said I need someone to adore me,

So I found some courage in a Dark 'N' Stormy

The flaming shots promised to make me cool.

After several of them, I skinny dipped in the pool.

What at the time I thought was celebration,

now I can see clearly.

It was alcohol's manipulation.