It Is Was On My Morning Stroll

it is was on my morning stroll i first noticed that common white house dress, pearl buttons busy in her garden sauntering on, a most common sight on subsequent passings my evaluations were she was not of any particular beauty yet, there was a numen behind that simple picket fence one that many times held me in a strange fascination her beauty was in a simplicity that left my inductive mind in a madhouse to understand so, i began, to steal my moments with her as an opportunity provided lost in the study of some neighbor's oak i became the ornithologist i was to take on many rolls no avenue was to be denied later i was to realize it was the grasp of that numen as Odysseus sirens i was born to succumb this ship would not pass in the night in the red sunset, a harbor found Benedick is ready to surrender and so my wish within did find a line to be man enough to balance a motorcycle and wear the dress of Emily a metaphor for abandoning the leather vest but if we must deal with the truth give freedom to dreams indeed i would forsake all the world could bestow on me, wealth, honor as with each line i dwell with her to turn back all of time and be the man that won the heart of Emily Dickinson OKC 5/22