B is for Traveling Companion

the stranger sings to the goddess

not knowing what else...

how else...

if ANYTHING else can work.

his intelligence is gone.

his witty repartee, dried up.

all he can muster is

"maybe you should dial 100 for customer service".

she,

warm to the touch like heaven

and pleasant like the hidden coves on earth.

and he should tell her all this

but for nought.

so he plays the coldplay

he sings. softly.

maybe she'll like this; maybe she'll hear

it's all he can say...

....

pax

tracy j h

03: April: 2k14

Comments

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B is for Stealing

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