The first sparks
flicker into the air
like the song of larks
to the soft hum
of beating hearts.
Debonair
beauty hits the breeze
in its swift drum.
Thawing is freeze
in glorious sunshine
and all the arts
look t’wards me
and what it mine.
Something not quite fair
but connection
unfaltering blessed
despite old action
sorely confessed
through soft blue fringe
of tear soaked hair,
bidden by binge
of alc’s old friend.
Take the hurt and
make me mend
mine and thine own
till the final curtain
is roughly sewn
and play come end.