Bungalow

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I’m falling, falling for you, entangled
in your crisp and shapeliness, newfangled 
light and heaviness. Underneath I hide
the quiver of my chin, where smiles reside.
Innocence plays upon my lips, cerise,
the color of the maple, of Maurice —
you see i try to please all of my friends,
too many to count, to many attend.
I used to climb each limb - each branch and lean
into the lemonshine, the ground unseen.
The scent of caramel, burnt sugar, spice.
Nay - likely ice-cold rain and paradise.
The frond is gone, the hoar frost near of heart.
The soar, light whip of float - the eye in part
travels with wind and scent. The boa wrap,
variegated color — I take a nap.
Snow-white bungalow - an arctic igloo.
I must be rescued - ash soot up the flue.
Serendipity through the heap.
I’d been dreaming - up through the leaves I leap.

8/3/2021
An interesting Couplet
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