Covers
Seems sometimes even the closest of lovers
Lose steam like kettles with bent up covers
Things boil over and make a mess of your day
Stains add character, they’re only stains anyway
Cements got a crack with weeds right where it’s begun to
heave
Like bare trees in the winter, problems gain appeal when
they leave
Breathe in a promise if you still dare, map a route to your
desires
Break up excuses and the grizzled retorts, use them to start
fires
Burn the gap between the dawn of your next wishful opening
eye
To where resolves the quandary between the devil and the
deep blue sky
Speak loud and clear into the megaphone, let the mob be sure
to hear you clear
You’re not looking to pave any highways to heaven or hell
with any of your intentions
Just embarking on the last leg of your journey and you plan
to expand my dimensions
Eager anticipation creeps across my chest looking for
purposeful loving consummation
These thing cause long dormant ripples of hope to quickly
follow behind in permutation
Sweat begins to build all across my brow, my fingers begin
to tap a rhythm or a part
The rest of it can only be played with her fingers dancing across
my chest into my heart
And the steam builds and builds and billows like fog across
a lake on an early autumn morn
A bed covered with roses, two bare lovers rolling in the
flowers, none of the roses has a thorn
A perfect start to a perfect beginning, tell me when the
last leg gets underway, when does it start
When will you be tapping your fingers across my chest in a
perfect rhythm right into my heart
Seems sometimes even the closest of lovers
Lose steam like kettles with bent up covers
Tim Windisch
07 25 2024
