In brownstone brimming with brush stroke of avant garde

splattered about by one who threw money down so hard.

Wallet bulging at the seams with green backs plenty.

Guy tipping flummoxed barber with rumpled twenty.

Was it pot of gold some leprechaun left behind?

No, it’s some out of kilter money tree. Great find....

Immersed in the verdant blades of grass, he faulted

At rust infected iron wrought bench and all thoughts halted.

Brisk wind nipped at his heels at connection he felt

With the well creased panted man that sat. Heart melt.

Picture of himself a few years in front of him.

A dented Stetson well worn with a stained brown brim.

They say that no man is an island, but they lied.

Outcast by his muteness o...

While preening on limb far above,

Pondering a long past lost love.

Oh, bat’s wings. What a nice nest egg.

He to end curse to nymph did beg.

Land legs phantom he sobbed about.

Brenda dear befuddled and freaked out....

Standing stately many summers rooted to this spot.

Children nipping at my bark; scratching at my knot.

Limbs shaking at climbing britches that still itches.

Tattooed with arrows with love: hit with hard pitches.

Little lads teething, and waddling to stand with crooked backs.

Little lasses playing tag; counting to twenty.

How many times I can’t count; must have been plenty....

But I just wanted to go for a normal walk

In the calico of autumn leaves around block.

Something was pulling at me with a tail flurried.

His puppy eyes were sparked by bunnies that scurried.

Ears long perked up by wind’s rustling the whimpered trees.

Leash lashing out at me as the dog the day’d seize....

Beneath the willow, you will find a strange aura.

Many a tear beneath the limbs amid the flora.

Bemused in thought in somber affection was there.

An oasis hidden from the peeping sun to where

Dreams disappear into an inkwell of mere verse.

Love bereft dripping in red ink on page disperse....

In the gleam that twinkles in the fiery autumn leaves is

Where I shimmer in the maple is where God knows I’m His.

From the tingle of fall winds on my nape where bright sun shined;

Where there is light, there is always a shadow close behind....

Like gypsies in the wind, village square engulfed in wares.

Ragtag itinerate makers in makeshift stalls cheers

Young and old that reminence in scented beeswax

of gingerbread and elderberry jam that tax.

Creamy walnut plaques of cliches that hang on hooks.

Other man’s thoughts in varied sized bound tinted books.

Woven boots for tots and knitted scarves in warm hues

And rich petit fours of chocolat...

In a world of roses, be a part of rainbow .

Of ebony, begin anew and go with the flow.

Of blushing red, holding hands strolling down the aisle.

Of azure petals, your oneness brings one a smile.

Of salmon tint, mom is on pedestal in eyes.

Of milky hue, you see young love that never dies.

Of pastel orange, modesty hides what’s sincere.

May the fragrance of your spirit rise and forbear....

Pigeons pondered at the rusted park bench and cooed

As the ill fitted denim rustled , old man stewed

As coifed young lasses passed by with their beaus arms locked.

Tossing crumbs to eager birds, he at his life balked

“But where. is my happiness” he slowly mumbled

As a carousel of scenes dance in mind jumbled....