hurricane

ransacked visions
fragments of hope
pieces of a dream
this equation we wrote

symbolizes vague images of the things we reach to be
a clandestine approach, void of pain or vanity.

Because they really matter--the dreams we hold true,
the escobars and minotaurs the lurk, hidden from view.

Why should it matter,  all the whens and the whys?
Because a glimpse of redemption could lighten these blood-black eyes.

Just a glimmer would force the courageous shoulder to meet the grindstone again.
A brief freedom from the litany, a dance of rhythm across the window pain.

Gleefully smitten and washed about
Temporarily released from bludgeoning doubt.

Handsome hands and gallant arms,
soft warm lips that speak no harm.

My sweet dream, and the wings to bear it.
The life I crave and the love to share it.