To: MsH

We collected ourselves,

and then off,

off we went!...

...The heaven's were calling,

so we were

heaven sent...

...All the way to the bank

where the soft words are spent,

(while the winds picking up)

and the things that we share

glow like gold

polished fruits...

...So much here is good,

we are lucky and fair,

living to our utmost

like our life is a song...

And my dear, I'm amazed...

...Can't you tell by my eyes?...

I have never been phased

By the storm in the skies,

or the hole in my sock,

or the crack in the wall,

or the drop in the stock...

I just need you to love me,

and I want you to know

that I'll always be true to you...

...Its the best way to go.

©

7/6/19

Bunny Villaire

Our bargain basement

has its price,

and I dare not name it

...Trepidation

for what's seeping

in at the corners,

when the lights begin

their whispering...

is that your ghost

mentally creeping

down round the neck,

wondering where I'm at

...Metaphysically

I see you on our pillow,

with eyelashes casting

shadows to your inner life

...Phenomenon

there's a space, some who,

that your saving inside out

and while you're waiting...

Sleep has you in my grasp

...Goodnight my Darling,

...Goodnight

look how green i am today.

do you see the sprigs of life i am sprouting?

the blooming flowers wound in my hair?

i look like a parakeet intellect

with my shamrock luck and seaweed envy.

see my emerald eyes?

they are burning with jealously;

my greedy flame has been lit.

drink in this sea foam rebirth

and hunger for my sage prosperity;

i am not green every day.

look how white i am today.

my cotton robes are simple

and my eggshell lace is innocent;

i glow with holy purity.

do you see these milky eyes with their frosted lashes?

i see all.

but look closely -

sometimes my ivory irises light up

and sometimes they are empty.

watch as i glide like a beautiful dream

down the long ghostly hallway;

i am not white every day.

look how black i am today.

i love black days; i feel all

ebony power

inky glamour

onyx sophistication.

i cry under my tattered shroud,

crow tears sliding down my milky cheeks.

you will never understand my midnight times -

though that it half the intrigue.

i am not black every day.

look how marbled i am today.

do you see the way my hair falls straight?

my bare feet?

my granite expression and my curious nose?

you will find that

in some lights

i am transparent.

in others

i’m as royally obsidian as my black days.

slide your finger down my conflicted surface;

i am marbled every day.