This Precipice Is But My Lovely HomeA Poem by Aella.lives
Young man, thank you for the fine words,
The row of them were a special thought that had me smirking,
As smirking fits upon my face as a curtain of hair will look lovely around your head.
And I mean that, truly.
Sweet bewailing that I can find in me,
Is simple and pleasant when I think of friend.
Yes, it’s simple love, when it’s ambiguous,
As thoughts atop of a precipice,
Leave me goading you farther and farther,
But the sentry that had yet been waiting for your return,
Has left and gone down to have a drink.
Whiskey, love, is powerful and I fear he will be gone for a while.
The words we share are acrimonious in nature.
Astoundingly there are dancing shadows that seem quite lovely,
When we throw our hands up into the air.
Past, now love, is our hour of shares,
As we must make our way down from this high tower of strange.
So I must thank you, young man, for that lovely banter.
I have not had such pleasure since so long before.
My departure should not be seen as a white flag,
For tomorrow I am sure we will climb this cliff again,
And I will whittle out of you another smirk,
For this precipice is but my lovely home.
© 2012 Aella.lives
Added on March 13, 2012
Last Updated on March 13, 2012
Bitter Isles, GA
AboutI write poetry and occasionally short stories as a hobby... I am so completely lost in what I want to do with my life.. But I enjoy what little bit of life I do have... I have a cat named Elvis and .. more..