Veiled

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To tip-toe eternal I am able
Though are you not bored with this gentle dance
Have you not tired of the dusty curtain calls
Or watched enough of me in the wings
Can I not come crashing through
And at your feet petition truth
I recall tenderness I could not have imagined
I pray and I trust you are warm with mercy
Where have I spent these years
Will the rest be so cold

And My Door

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I confess 
I do need the few things that I want
For they’d help me to walk less only 
My heart put to the test
The more longish glance
The brush of a hand
Some help small or grand
And of course, that last dance
Reserved though this is, for the rest 

Shiver Me

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 I marvel
Will you always look little to me 
Loving recklessly
Moving with abandon
Dancing the Worm 
Without care of the bruises 
Both eyes big and thinking
What good will the wily do you
I wonder