Oh, mystery and intrigue just after midnight,
Arriving just as chime of twelfth ends day,
Beckons new arrival under covers,
Awaits till sleepers rise to enter fray,
Into what’s unknown in all tomorrows,
Pending, abundant, at last strike,
The second that one ends and time begins again,
Oh, mystery, intrigue, new day on night.
one single tear escapes and wends
its way slowly down from eye to cheek,
to wake in night unknowing what
has made me weep
one single tear
yet despair and grief are cloistered in,
suffusing, spreading still from soul out
to my pen.
one single tear wiped so easily,
no more to follow suit, but wonderment
that all I feel shed only
one single tear.
I wish I was clairvoyant,
Future I’d unwind.
Or, like Indie, an adventurer,
Then your treasures I would find.
I’d seek them out and polish them
Like gems of greatest worth
And lovingly enfold them
In softest velvet purse.
Every one would be to me
A portent of our times,
Directing cause and so effect,
Reason made from rhymes.
But better yet than Fortune’s fool
I may lay my head upon your chest
While you stroke my hair and whisper words
That ease and give me blessed rest
Till fire aflames from hearts so pure
That angels hear and falter, at
Honesty and gift of love
That fortune may not alter.