We'll blame the moon for the holding

on, to the waning, that makes our gaunt

shadows fill with all of lassitude...

Till we cower together in the dark

of the new...

howl, to never own the lune, a stake

I'd claim, and it will possess you, too

waxing highlights on our cheeks, manic

with a shine, each time it passes us by

I heard it.

Dew, from the tip of a needle, leaf...

A whistle down, as I inhale the green

of your sighs, squeezed so elementally

condensed and reassembled, a piece of sky

feeding the stand of all our Originality.

I am posting a short personal note to let you know that I have not been able to respond as I usually do to each post into my challenge prompts. I greatly regret this and want to apologize and reassure you that I read each post and appreciate your work fully. I am battling some pain at the moment and have every intent to return to writing. I will mark a heart and repost, so you know I have read your work and have every intent of resuming writing comments soon.

I will likely continue to post prompts, and again ask for this understanding for a little while longer.

Please know that your writings inspire and motivate me. I even had a dream based on one of the responses posted recently in the Comedy portal, and I rarely ever dream.

Thank you! and please take good care of yourselves :)

*p.s. I will delete this post in time, once things normalize.

And in the margins, paper

the morning paper

Shuffles

white surrender

folded, napkin like, legs

on the ottoman pullout

We write in bytes now

O's, 1's

and inkless lines

In the morning, lines

One day

I'll gather up these thoughts

and the trail of Time (lost)

a thing generational

like an heirloom pocket watch

the mechanism (still) runs

I'll find

we're back on track

and it will tick

where the heart once was

mechanical

At the Villa, where we settle our affaires,

the French balcony stays ajar

as Warblers and Larks offer up Summer's wares

An English secretary, atop the stairs,

set so's we might listen on par,

at the Villa where we settle our affaires.

The Tahitian window box triples its shares,

lu’au'ing a fresh wax washed car,

as Blue hummingbirds offer up Summer's wares

Here on high amidst green leaves and falling cares

amid whispered fairytales, near, far,

at the Villa, where we settle our affaires;

There's a divan in the sky instead of chairs

grand Cinema styled, for a Czar,

as bright Kingfishers offer up Summer's wares.

We whistle along to cool fountainpen smears

with a Spirit --no-error-mars,

at the Villa where we settle our affaires,

as Finches and Jays offer up Summer's wares.

The garden beautiful, is unattended

if we only close our eyes a moment

and forget, firsts... to listen, and

how it grows...

tip... toe... from wing carried seed

...the plot at attention, always...

all efforts superfluous, and that

superfluous is the beauty itself