The Birth of Venus

My brain is working overtime, thinking about money, grammar and endless love, what shoes I should wear, how to eat and how much not,

I don't know what I'll do, if my Yorkies won't stop barking, soon, I'd drag my tired brain, from place to place, dreaming about justice and injustice, 

and gorging myself on winged poems, and it seems like I never have enough money to go around, and then words worry me, too, like would, could, shall, or should, and why not do?

Even though my pen may have a moral plan, can it out-argue my past? Seems not, because just this morning I was dreaming of budding twigs in my graying hair, and summers dancing with an endless love,

I was thinking how his eyes flashed with fire and his always smiling lips were covered in gold-leaf, I could not resist kissing once more even in my dreams.