Wednesday, May 12, 2010

It's May II

as i try to sit and pour
out onto these keys and find my
muse again; there is a pair of
tiny hands with five little feelers
that search and grab and pull for me
large, curious eyes stare just a few
inches from my face, with breath
that is sticky and almost sweet as
she sits there, her chest going up
and down with every second that
redirects my purpose and brings the
sun around here more often to
help the words spill and the verses