See those Swans at the window?
They’re stuck in Ice cold waters,
Prickly feathers, frozen
But still gentle- My ‘Friend’.
As they tickle you in your sleep,
Floating into Blue.
Prey awaken as strong necks,
Cuddled each other to sleep.
One half for you, one half for me.
Nestling, lulling white hairs into that-
Goosebumps rippling in a circle,
Those Swans at the window
Their sailing around the world,
With one chipped wing
Each- a pair of eyes,
Shared between the two.
One half for me and one half for you.
Circling, circling with no
Guided by the smell, the hope
Swimming with no compass now,
When you want to hold
But only their shadows
Touch your finger tips.
When you want to scold
But only gentle words fall
Out of your lips.
Grab them softly
Hold them firmly
And never let them go.
Unless they wriggle out
Of your buttered fingers,
Leaving but a mere stain upon your,
On my mantle piece, lie
Candles which burn slowly
Flickering throughout the eve’
As the crescent moon hovers through the window,
Nearly crashing on my sill .
Head pokes out for a deep breath of air,
Sucking in a vortex of night time life.
Dizzying swirls which seems stiller than the day,
As circles and squares merge into the dark.
But, lets lick our fingers and sizzle out the flame,
Travel to the sun and stroke its raucous mane.
In an attempt to tame both ourselves and the Earth.
Blackened hands having been burnt to the crisp
As we look over the horizon now,
Only to tumble down into the abyss of light.
The Male Muse,
Is comically unaware of the abuse
In admiration of his fatal flaws
Which are the cause
Of painful admiration
A tempting allegation
For desperate accusation
By ladies, who seek to explain
The bounteous terrain
Of such exquisite, male charm