I no longer tread
To such treacherous places
With maniac men
Said the bad Iris
Stay away, smart-mouthed Tulips
Come, sweet Impatiens
Calling all muses
Know that Wicked Wit’s amused
You are being used
June expectations
Baseball, but not my birthday
No, none kind of warmth
I lay down prostrate
Sand in my teeth and awe-drowned
Cleansed by today’s truth
I, without words, left
Gloriously in the dark
Always and by you
Warm wind and warm wind
It seems I’ve been lost in you
I cared not who watched
Each, our one desire
A meteorite crater
The footsteps of us
Information feigned
Captivated, I ask, “Why?”
Then set out to know
LisaRosier.com 