Match Made In Heaven

My voice Alive with tone Yet sharply censored By a mind's take on years Of historical notes Tongue no longer sweetened By optomism Or spiced with Mischievous humor Suddenly all I taste is So dry So predictably dull Night steps forward quickly Like a woman whose High heels carry her too loudly Over hardwood floors I hear her sharp And definite approach Darkness surrounds me Like mink Soft to the touch But cruel in creation I lay my head down And begin to dream My lonely place in the Darkness opens Like a curtain To reveal a carnival scene Where pale pink cotton candy Weaves itself gracefully Around paper cones I taste the Incredible sweetness Its pure reminiscent aroma So filling with the Portrayal of childhood innocence A time lost and So light in texture I draw the moment in deep To remember it well My grandmother is with me now Baking her rhubarb pie Picked fresh from the garden I'm sitting at her table A bright-yellow vinyl tablecloth Neatly drapes itself around Oval-shaped wood Loud carnival music Compliments my meal I open my mouth wide Grandmother, serving the perfect balance Of sweet and spice, Says softly "Eat child...Eat" And then walks away Alone now I see the faint outline Of a crowd in the distance Lining up to take their turn On the Ferris Wheel I'm driven to the Perfectly straight horizon Vividly painted beyond And to them A wise-cracking clown Accompanies me Telling off-color jokes And showing me "the ropes" On how to effectively Cut in line I see my lover Jeans torn and hair Perfectly backlit by The midday sun He is at the front of the line He is waiting For me All those behind him now Have grown impatient After all It's been A very Very Long time The clown presses my hand Firmly to my lover's Like a rose forever saved Between brittle pages And with a wink Waves goodbye The crowd is cheering now As brightly-colored balloons Lift up Released They have found Their rightful place In the sky