Photo: Jeanne Rene Watson

~ever and again so~

Diminutive she is, lost to his eye,
easily dismissed but for shameless tears,
and the jitter of knees knocking
under gossamer gown.
She balances her weight
between prudence and idiocy,
arms across her breast,
foiling bristles splintering off his tongue.

In the lull of repartee
he ponders.
Is it her frailness he most detests,
or perhaps her mere nakedness
and constant heart, still beating?

She comes from the end of the hallway,
running to him as if an angel
who refuses to open its wings in battle
so beguiled by love,
and stumbling through the eclipse
of regret and pity,
falls into his arms.

He roars silently in his manhood.
~as once more . . . ever and again~
he softly lifts her guise,
kissing bloodied feathers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

~ever and again~

She ceases to tremble.

Copywrite jeanne rené