Ok, Terry, . . . at ya! shoot your best shot (as it were).
REMEMBRANCE
Multi-colored hair, askew,
Sun filtering through,
Warning morning,
Thru thin drapes.
My mouth agape,
Revealing the staleness
Of yesterday, as dry
As remnants of you and I --
Mingled, lingering
Not just a memory
Or a "time" but, fresh,
Recalled -- mostly you -- me too.
Opening eyes
Signal my time to rise,
For night, to me, has come.
Enough rum,
Enough dumb,
To be able to be,
That, which is me,
Then not care,
Those who dare
To tell . . . I'm not them,
(nor ever will be), or want . . .
Again, I can taste you,
And the joy of giving
You delight re-plays in my mind,
So much; like morning dew,
Everywhere, even in our hair,
Giving pleasure is right -- I find.
The eminence so bright,
Sunlight too,
A stir, movement, it's you,
Awakens me, again.
Giving, not taking, delight,
With no question,
Must be, as we entwine -- only right.
...------------------------------
Copyright 1995 Rick Arnold
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Poetry {Gated} 
