And yet there is a softer side –
diaphanously transcendental –
embracing, baldly sentimental –
a pearled diurnal April ride
through warming air that keeps
some subtlety alive; a sweet
light breath aspires to treat
imagination to its gentler leaps:
you heed this silent Saturday
and sense the presence of someone
you haven’t met: a man, undone,
imprisoned by some harder, flatter way
of living than the one you’d choose:
but something tugs, ignites –
inexorably draws you and excites
a willingness in you to lose
your heart to him: a sharp romance –
imaginary and ridiculous –
and yet you follow its meticulous
sweet reverie through every dance
the softer side permits.
And here he sits.
diaphanously transcendental –
embracing, baldly sentimental –
a pearled diurnal April ride
through warming air that keeps
some subtlety alive; a sweet
light breath aspires to treat
imagination to its gentler leaps:
you heed this silent Saturday
and sense the presence of someone
you haven’t met: a man, undone,
imprisoned by some harder, flatter way
of living than the one you’d choose:
but something tugs, ignites –
inexorably draws you and excites
a willingness in you to lose
your heart to him: a sharp romance –
imaginary and ridiculous –
and yet you follow its meticulous
sweet reverie through every dance
the softer side permits.
And here he sits.
.
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