My Rhododendron of Loneliness

The arcs of how you work On the PC before the desk Chords of the circles You paint while you talk Hilly sentences of poems The tales of the muscles Swing in crimson sunshine The machine you handle While the steel melts They are your boyfriends They flirt overtly Baskets of flowers, laugh Sun sits on marigolds I see you walking Doing your hair Talking to the unruly breeze Holding you tight In the pink behind Poems ring on telephone My rhododendron of loneliness