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Friday, November 2, 2012

Dragonfly




Act I.

Ahh my beloved,
how obscure your touch;

a faltering baluster
pressing lies
revealed with soft,
supple eyes steeled
to mock me and disguise
the verity behind your play.



Act II.

You might plead me
to carry your wind,
release beneath willows;
let soar as the falcon soars

that I should
say goodbye?



Act III.

Cry.



Act IV.

I am
your dragonfly;

united on such 
unpopular flight, 
unhindered by 
truth 

in honesty for love.

Copyright © Pamela A. Lamppa
All Rights Reserved
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