Rendezvous With a Madman
The clockwise closure of the lock,
the casual yet floral frock,
the charming cinematic pose,
the way she crinkles up her nose,
at cigarettes and cheap perfume,
I know she's waiting in my room.
I wonder if she hears my song,
the one I wrote Beethoven on,
The shadows of the cedar tree
outside the room are chilling me
with fears of ghosts she doesn't know.
I hear their breathing
deep and slow.
in Gothic grain, I see a face
within the bark, what is this place?
The greedy grass absorbs the sound,
my music sinks into the ground
and sprouts a blossom burning bright
I'll take it back to her tonight.
Should I return?
I have the wine,
Sangria and a Valentine.
a strangled sigh escapes my throat,
I can not sing the words I wrote.
The very fabric of the night
is twisting out, this can't be right....
..............................
My melancholy fancy fades,
the feathered breath of hope pervades.
A foreigner to fate am I
But love is strong ....... and I must try
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006
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