How it was that you have a family I don’t
Know,
Maybe it was that you had it while you were crossing over
From Mexico;
But this is my pledge, my Hibernian fire,
My paper airplane torches,
My love crossed bird on its wire: Alma, Alma; alighting,
Fly:
I give you the promise of hope- and I stab my heart and die,
I die:
Or I hang myself inside my yellow shelter, while my
Bromeliads cavort,
This is the last report of my heartache, and the palpitations
Of my ever beating percussion:
Sometimes the sky wants rain, and sometimes the rain wants some:
But I followed you all the way home from work today:
At least all the way to Cherry lane, and almost all of the way
Home where it must happen that your two children
Were blossoming;
And it was some kind of Technicolor dream, caracoling on its
Merry-go-round, making fun of nothing:
Your eyes so brown and wild, filled with a sea of zorros:
Holding your pin knife, you cut the ears and heads and hearts
From the day old lettuce, until you looked up and saw through the
Transoms of my days: my heart my soul- you let off and sucreased:
Together we were made whole.
Transoms Of My Days
Did you enjoy the the artible “Transoms Of My Days” from Robert Rorabeck on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply