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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
Copyright ©
Timothy Ray
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