Three – it speaks of gathering the rustle of a relationship maturing with the times. Yes, I understand you and so you do me. The fleeting caverns of your mind harrowing. Our intersections are narrow enough to vanish like last night. No, they are eternal, breathing life into me. Thoughts create a verdant vista of never-made approaches and mistaken reproaches. Are you still there? As I sneak in a scribble or two between work, I can see his floating silences, like a halo. Come up, ask me. Is this what you want?
Three – materialize into my sphere. Wherever I go, you seem to be my sense of correction. Are you everything about propriety, correctness, conformity? Darn you! Make me a moment of your sunlight shining on the fertile vales of my imagination. You are there, a woman in me, a soul of light, you embody my femininity. Drop out of your castle at times, see how we live. That clock of yours measures not time, but sighs – an hour of glass is all I have from you. Come now, stop your illustrations into the canvas you never believed in.
Three – be my memory, a soothing presence. Turn not away into yourself. There’s too much the world takes away, but have we not learned to collect the shatters and slowly snail ahead? Be there, my rising star, I’ll look for you in my dark days and wintry nights – even when you whisk me off to your wonderland of giving.
