The siamese twin
Every day seems to stop and start
With shapes and colors and God-given art
Yet I only exist within the warmth of your gaze
But for a moment to then disappear in the haze.
So I go amidst the multitudes and the commotion
I go there and witness the grand seduction
I'm but a remnant who's been ripped open
Undone, broken, remolded and woken.
Behold my muse of milk and honey
And her siamese twin who struggles within
Behold the patrons that show and tell
And all you artists that live under her spell.
O tiger tiger I now feel somewhat ill at ease
I'm stricken by some kind of strange disease
I ponder the chain that shackles my brain
And the mighty spears that brings her to tears.
Behold my muse of milk and honey
and her twin who lives for silk and money
It's gloom and doom and flowers for tomorrow
Lilies for her bedroom and roses for her sorrow.
Copyright © Paul Rochefort | Year Posted 2024
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