Although I am dying cold,
and flying out of gold
Still am tall,
and I boldly flower out the tree of my love
and shower it on my lover; for free
Still am tall,
even when I trim to other short side of the road
and notice that some tree toad odd lovers,
sorely fold their love reflection and affections,
and sale old loaves of love to their lovers
Still am tall,
and I will always stand tall in love,
with a medal of her untold beauty
Still am tall,
because she is my tree of life insurance
and I am lifeless without her in my life
Rain sweeps reckless, outside wind does roar
scattering debris on water soaked lawn;
in beam of streetlight the rain does pour
from midnight till the break of dawn,
until swollen black cloud is gone.
He flung open the door to modest abode
as rain swept daring outside the door;
he looked to be like a drenched tree toad
walking in puddles across my floor,
flinging his hat and coat that he wore.
His face burned with summer now dripping wet
with water drizzling down his taut cheek;
his brow beaded up like fiery sweat
with soaked shirt showing off his physique,
he appeared so young and sheik.
In his doused brawny arms I purposely fell
his lips dripping wet and wedged apart;
he had me under his brash seductive spell
before I knew what was in my heart,
I was his Bacall, he my sexy Bogart.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.