My Lesson Soft Spring Love
He stood like an oak, tall and firm
proud of his life and all that he'd learned
rigid-set stare, no he didn't dare... to squirm
He wanted to droop, out there in the sun
he felt like a candle, in a solar oven
but it was clear, he had fear, of the one
The BOHEMYTH being, more loud and mean
than volcanic steam
with a gardener's trowel
that could break the bough
of any bushman
Now suddenly there
in his empty stare
by the real trees... a she
moved with ease
into his vision, oh beware
of the BOHEMYTH nightmare
So he will, be still
Like a statute with eyes, he tries
to watch her glide, her graceful stride
so perfect, he sighs
He never in life had seen a view
where wanting was blessed with a sweet honey hue
black eyes like the pot to hold the gold
that poured like lace around her face
A shy little smile of blushing rose
tinted with red where passion grows
and she SEES him, he knows
A vision of rain, for his sun-baked pores
he begs for more, come closer little amor
And from his motionless, rooted stance
his heart beats fast, to the mating dance
An angel in air, she comes to greet
the strongest bushman in summer's heat
and like a breeze she whispers, "Oh, wheat,
I'm a little butterfly, and I'm sorry I made you cry...
when I landed with heavy feet."
*from the "Say NO to Webs" Series
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